I do not know the depths of love it took to die on Calvary;
I do not know the shame and grief He suffered there to set me free.
Nor can I tell how bitter was His cup in dark Getsemane,
The pain He bore – heartbroken, poor; But this I know:
He died for me!
I know not why that for my sins His precious blood so freely flows,
Nor fathom why the Lord of All did not such cruel death oppose.
I cannot understand the power which triumphed over death and foes.
They sealed His tomb midst dark’ning gloom; but this I know:
For me He rose!
I do not know why oftentimes the skies are dark and overcast;
Nor why, in grave temptations, all my problems seem so hard, so vast.
I cannot tell what things may come – sore heartaches, all my hopes to blast
The shades of night obscure the light; but this I know:
He’ll hold me fast.
