Father, I sing thy wondrous grace,

I bless my Savior's name;

He bought salvation for the poor,

And bore the sinner's shame.

His deep distress has raised us high;

His duty and his zeal

Fulfilled the law which mortals broke,

And finished all thy will.

His dying groans, his living songs,

Shall better please my God

Than harp or trumpet's solemn sound,

Than goat's or bullock's blood.

This shall his humble followers see,

And set their hearts at rest

They by his death draw near to thee,

And live for ever blest.

Let heav'n and all that dwell on high

To God their voices raise,

While lands and seas assist the sky,

And join t' advance the praise.

Zion is thine, most holy God,

Thy Son shall bless her gates;

And glory purchased by his blood

For thy own Isr'el waits.