1 Behold what wondrous Grace
The Father has bestow'd
On Sinners of a Mortal Race,
To call them Sons of God!

2 'Tis now surprising Thing
That we should be unknown;
The Jewush 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 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.