Nothing can I boast in

At God’s 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 Christ’s heart,
Love took him to the tree.
It’s grace alone which saves me;
Christ’s blood that sets me free.

So if I am boasting,
I’ll speak of my disgrace.
For my weak self displays
The power of God’s grace.
Christ’s Spirit works within me,
In weakness he is strong.
So I look to my Saviour
To safely bring me home.