Burden of Grace
A garden cold
in the dead of night
A heavy cup beneath the pale moonlight
He bent his knees to the dusty ground
While all the world slept without a sound
(mmmmm) The weight of the world
began to press
Every broken heart
and wilderness
Oh, the cost of the love He carried there
On shoulders bruised, in silent prayer
He paid the price
we could never afford
The king of glory,
the suffering Lord (oh-oh-oh)
With every step up the lonely hill
He held our freedom in His will
Through the mocking crowd and the driving thorns
Our healing in His wounds was born No silver,
no gold could buy our grace
Only the tears on a Savior's face
He took the cross,
He bore the shame
And wrote our names in His holy flame
Oh, the cost of the love He carried there
On shoulders bruised, in silent prayer
He paid the price
we could never afford The king of glory,
the suffering Lord (He paid it all)
Paid it all... (ahhhhh)