Who am I that God should love me
And be punished in my stead?
How could the Great Creator
By the created be led
Up a rugged hill so lonely
To that cross of calvary
And accept that brutal hatred
Just to set a sinner free?

Oh the love that flowed so freely
Was a bright and crimson red;
And it held the life of Jesus
And of those who gibly said,
"Come on down and we'll believe you!"
After nails had peirced His hands;
And it also held provision for
His peoples in every land!

Like a speck of minute dust upon
The microsope of space is my life
A mere reflection
Is my influence and place;
Yet I wonder, oh I wonder!
At the gift he gave so high;
And I pledge my deep devotion
As I question," Who am I?"
Joan Clifton Costner