It was for me

Nothing He did was deserving of death.
It wasn't for His sins, but for mine.
Praise the Lord!

Alas! and did my Savior bleed?
And did my Sov'reign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For sinners such as I?

Was it for crimes that I have done
He groaned upon the tree?
Amazing pity! Grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

Well might the sun in darkness hide,
And shut his glories in,
When Christ, the mighty Maker, died
For man the creature's sin.

But drops of grief can ne'er repay
The debt of love I owe.
Here, Lord, I give myself away,
'Tis all that I can do!

At the cross, at the cross
Were I first saw the light,
And the burden of my heart rolled away,
It was there by faith
I received my sight,
And now I am happy all the day!

--Isaac Watts