Adoption

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

Nor doth it yet appear How great we shall be made But when we see our Saviour here We shall be like our Head

Lord, arm us with this Hope All Trials to endure: O purge our Souls from Sense and Sin, As thou our God art pure.

If in my Father's Love I share filial Part, Show'r down thy Influence, holy Dove, And rest upon my Heart.

We wou'd no longer lie Like Slaves beneath thy Throne: O let us Abba, Father, cry And thou the Kindred own!