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.