1 Behold what wondrous grace The Father hath bestow'd On sinners of a mortal race, To call them sons of God!
2 'Tis no surprising thing That we should be unknown; The Jewish world knew not their King, God's everlasting Son.
3 Nor doth it yet appear How great we must be made; But when we see our Saviour here, We shall be like our head.
4 A hope so much divine May trials well endure, May purge our souls from sense and sin, As Christ the Lord is pure.
5 If in my Father's love I share a filial part, Send down thy Spirit like a dove To rest upon my heart.
6 We would no longer lie Like slaves beneath the throne; My faith shall Abba, Father, cry, And thou the kindred own.