Behold what wondrous grace

The Father has bestowed

On sinners of a mortal race,

To call them sons of God!

'Tis no surprising thing

That we should be unknown;

The Jewish world knew not their king,

God's everlasting Son.

Nor doth it yet appear

How great we must be made;

But when we see our Savior here,

We shall be like our Head.

A hope so much divine

May trials well endure;

May purge our souls from sense and sin,

As Christ the Lord is pure.

If in my Father's love

I share a filial part,

Send down thy Spirit like a dove,

To rest upon my heart.

We would no longer lie

Like slaves beneath the throne;

My faith shall Abba, Father, cry,

And thou the kindred own.