A few months ago, after joyously reveling in the Lοrd, I was inspired to write a forth verse to Mr. Townend’s hymn. I hope you enjoy:
How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure,
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure.
How great the pain of searing loss -
The Father chose His hand to stay,
As wounds which mar the chosen One
Bring many sons to glory.
Behold the Man upon a cross,
My sin upon His shoulders;
Ashamed, I hear my mocking voice
Call out among the scoffers.
It was my sin that left Him there
Until it was accomplished;
His dying breath has brought me life -
I know that it is finished.
I will not boast in anything,
No gifts, no pow’r, no wisdom;
But I will boast in Jεsus Chrıst,
His death and resurrection.
Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer;
But this I know with all my heart -
His wounds have paid my ransom.
“Tetelestai,” a voice cries out;
All debts have been paid fully.
Do not let one claim guilt in thee;
You’re clothed in blood-washed linen.
Now sing thy joy amidst the earth
So all may hear of Jεsus.
Oh, come ye children and receive
Abundant love and glory.