Behold, what love, what boundless love,
The Father hath bestowed
On sinners lost, that we should be
Now called the sons of God!
Behold, what manner of love!
What manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us,
That we, that we should be call’d,
Should be called the sons of God.
No longer far from Him, but now
By “precious blood” made nigh:
Accepted in the “Well-beloved,”
Near to God’s heart we lie,
What we in glory soon shall be,
It doth not yet appear;
But when our precious Lord we see,
We shall His image bear.
With such a blessed hope in view,
We would more holy be,
More like our risen, glorious Lord,
Whose face we soon shall see.