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Nothing can I boast in


At Godís perfect timing
Christ died for fallen man.
He wore a crown of thorns,
Nails driven through His hands.
Christ willingly endured it,
To death He chose to go.
He broke His body for us,
Shed blood to make us whole.

Nothing can I boast in,
My life is scarred with sin.
My works are filthy rags,
No merit can I bring.
Yet mercy filled Christís heart,
Love took Him to the tree.
Itís grace alone which saves me;
Christís blood that sets me free.

So if I am to boast,
Iíll speak of my disgrace.
For my weak self displays
The power of Godís grace.
Christís Spirit works within me,
In weakness He is strong.
So I look to my Savior
To safely bring me home.

Nothing can I boast in,
My life is scarred with sin.
My works are filthy rags,
No merit can I bring.
Yet mercy filled Christís heart,
Love took Him to the tree.
Itís grace alone which saves me;
Christís blood that sets me free.



         

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