Matt Tillman Worship - The Mystery of Grace

In evil long I took delight
Unawed by shame or fear
Till a new object struck my sight
And stopped my wild career
I saw One hanging on a tree
In agonies and blood
Who fixed His weary eyes on me
As near His cross I stood

Sure, never till my latest breath
Can I forget that look
It seemed to charge me with His death
Though not a word He spoke
My conscience felt and owned the guilt
And plunged me in despair
I saw my sins His blood had spilt
And helped to nail Him there

Alas, I knew not what I did
But now my tears are vain
Where shall my trembling soul be hid
For I the Lord have slain
A second look He gave, which said
I freely all forgive
This blood is for your ransom paid
I die that you might live

Thus, while His death my sin displays
In all its blackest hue
Such is the mystery of grace
It seals my pardon too
With pleasing grief and mournful joy
My spirit is now filled
That I should such a life destroy
Yet live by him I killed

This blood is for my ransom paid
He died that I might live

Written by:
John Newton, Matthew Tillman

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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