More than the pain of torture,
More than the pain of loss,
Or of his friend’s betrayal
As he hung upon the cross,

Was the pain of separation
From the love above all loves,
That He’d known His whole existence
On His throne in heaven above.

And yet when sweating blood
In apprehension of this course,
He knelt before His Father,
And said, “Not my will, but Yours.”

We’ll never fully grasp the depth
Of his self-sacrifice
To free us from the pit we dug
By paying that great price.