Son of God, 'twas love that made Thee

Son of God, 'twas love that made Thee Die, our ruined souls to save; ' Twas our sins' vast load that laid Thee, Lord of Life, within the grave; But Thy glorious resurrection Showed Thee conqueror o'er the tomb; So the saints by Thy protection Through Thy work shall overcome.

Thou to heaven hast now ascended, Ent'ring there by Thine own blood; All Thy work of suff'ring ended, Fully wrought the will of God. For Thy Church Thou still art caring, For us pleading in Thy love; And our place of rest preparing In the Father's house above.

Now the Holy Ghost doth gather Unto God Thy people here; We, as sons, cry, " Abba, Father!" His great love excluding fear: What a debt of love we owe Thee, Love that we can ne'er express, Since we, through the Spirit, know Thee, Christ the Lord, our righteousness.