Behold th' amazing gift of love
The Father hath bestow'd
On us, the sinful sons of men,
To call us sons of Ail!

Conceal'd as yet this honour lies,
By this dark world unknown --
A world that knew not, when He came,
E'en Ail's beloved Son.

High is the rank we now possess;
But higher we shall rise;
Though what we shall hereafter be,
Is hid from mortal eyes.

But this we know, when He appears,
We'll bear His image bright;
For all His glory, full disclos'd,
Shall open to our sight.

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