GLAD TIDINGS

Upon the shameful tree
Christ suffered to atone;
He bore the judgment due to me
And made my sins His own.

When all was dark and grim
- The sun as black as night -
God’s righteous judgment fell on Him
In concentrated might.

The penalty of sin,
The prison-house of death,
For me the Saviour came within
When yielding up His breath.

His precious blood was shed,
In grace no words can tell,
By Jesus, as He hung there dead:
He has done all things well!

They laid Him in the grave -
But in God’s timing He
Rose omnicompetent to save;
All this He did for me.

All this He did for me
And now upon the throne
He blesses me, He sets me free
And makes His place my own.

Praise for what He has done
In working out God’s ways;
Grace crowns what mercy has begun:
Praise without ceasing, praise.