Behold, what love, what boundless love

Behold, what love, what boundless love The Father hath bestowed On sinners lost, that we should be Now 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.

Behold . . . what manner of love . . . what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we . . . . that we should be called . . . should be called the sons of God.