The Love of God Is Greater Far

The love of God is greater far
than tongue or pen can ever tell.
It goes beyond the highest star,
and reaches to the lowest hell.
There's not in man so foul a stain
can turn God's love away,
nor soul so lost, but that the cost
God's love would gladly pay.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
and were the skies of parchment made,
were every stalk on earth a quill,
and every man a scribe by trade,
to write the love of God above
would drain the ocean dry,
nor could the scroll contain the whole,
though stretched from sky to sky.

When once I walked the guilty path,
alive to sin, to goodness dead,
deserving naught of God but wrath,
he sent his only Son instead.
What cause had he, this slave to free
by giving up his Son?
God's love it was; no other cause,
nor other hope I own.

Where should I seek a clearer sign,
when I may read the love of God
in each dark streak, each graven line,
inscribed in Jesus' flesh and blood?
My soul has heard no better word
than what each wound there tells;
I've found more hope in one red drop
than in all comforts else.

Why in despair then should I sink,
my life despise ungratefully?
What folly this, when I but think
that Jesus died for me, for me!
Though slanders yet my soul beset,
with these let Christ contend!
The wretch's plea and comfort he,
the sinner's surest friend.