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.