Sometimes when I think of the cross,
I find much sorrow there;
To think of such a perfect life
He gave without a tear.

The nails that pierced His hands and feet,
The crown of thorns He wore;
That woeful sword that pierced His side,
The guilt of sin He bore.

I was so lost and full of sin,
And sin so full in me;
So weak and worthless, sick and sore,
Undone without a plea.

But Jesus came to that old cross,
And shed His blood for me;
And sorrow turned to happiness:
He rose to victory.

My Savior died for me,
He bled and died for me;
His life so perfect and mine so worthless,
He bled and died for me.

My Savior died, He died for me, He bled and died, He died for me. He died for me.