Wounded God upon the tree, this place of curse He shouldn't be.
He chose to walk out Father's plan that He might offer unto man--
escape from death that never ends.
God the Righteous finds guilty all, man's nature lost to the garden fall.
Where perfect relationship was sacrificed to Satan's call.
Man's thirst for "godness", stoked hot by pride, to know like God and be like God;
Blinders make us believe somehow that our control is the stream where peace comes to draw.
We daily see, but never learn that for fallen man, our godness is never goodness.
Wounded souls wound, and injured souls ache with pain we cannot heal, or take.
Finally----we really see—our naked state and hopelessness ---our putridness caused Him to bleed.
Inwardly we see it, til upwardly we gaze, downwardly surrendering, then we rise-- amazed!
Our wounds He collected. Our sin, He called upon Himself. He took the whip and nails and thorns
as punishment for all.
And then He gave His body to the tomb; it became His sewing room!
Restoration robes He stitched with every settled sin stamped Paid in full, He gathered us in and clothed us with Himself. Thank God for the sin collector!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this, O my soul!
What wondrous love is this,
That caused the Lord of bliss,
To bear the dreadful curse,
For my soul, for my soul,
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul.
To God and to the Lamb, I will sing, I will sing!
To God and to the Lamb, Who is the great "I AM, "
While millions join the theme, I will sing, I will sing!
And when from death I'm free, I'll sing on, I'll sing on!
And when from death I'm free, I'll sing and joyful be,
And thro' eternity, I'll sing on, I'll sing on,