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 turns His face away 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 held 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 power no wisdom, But I will boast in Jesus Christ, 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.Отче наш Сущий на небесах Det var ei nogen blomst Barevná píseň ЈАЗ ФӘСЛИНДӘ Буду восхвалять Тебя, мой Царь и Бог Salmo 129 Io Ti dono il mio cuore Vaso novo الهنا حاضر وسطنا Помощь моя от Господа
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