A trial condemned—you've done no wrong.
I am the one who broke your law.
Though rightly blamed, I still deny,
But charged of my sin, you stand in silence.
A whip of cords his back to scar,
The one who made the sun and stars.
So meek he bows the stripes to bear
That he might buy my healing there.
A robe of red and purple hues—
Its every thread I wove for you,
Not to exalt but your love to scorn—
You humbly wear that I might be reborn.
A crown of thorns—it should be mine.
I mock your rule, your love divine.
You wear this crown of guilt and shame
That righteousness you could proclaim.
Forsaken now, it should be me
Who bears God's rage upon that tree.
He aches to see the Father's face
But finds wrath and all my sin erases.
A burden so heavy I cannot bear,
And by my side I see you there.
You take my cross; you take my place.
You die my death...amazing grace.