1 Father, I sing thy wondrous grace, I bless my Saviour's Name, He bought salvation for the poor, And bore the sinner's shame.
2 His deep distress has rais'd us high, His duty and his zeal Fulfill'd the law which mortals broke, And finish'd all thy will.
3 His dying groans, his living songs Shall better please my God Than harp or trumpet's solemn sound, Than goats' or bullocks' blood.
4 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.
5 Let heaven, and all that dwell on high, To God their voices raise, While lands and seas assist the sky, And join t' advance the praise.
6 Zion is thine, most holy God; Thy Son shall bless her gates; And glory purchas'd by his blood For thine own Israel waits.