The Grace of the Father’s Heart

  I bless Thee, Father, for Thy bounteous grace,
    Which reached me when I wandered in my night
  Of God-forgetfulness, and in my race
    For happiness which from me was in flight.

  I knew not where to find it; I was lost.
    No satisfaction in this world I found;
  In bitterness of spirit I was tossed
    By powers of darkness, and was captive bound.

  Hadst Thou not drawn me I had yet remained
    In that lone land of guilt and death and gloom,
  A captive by the base deceiver chained,
    And nought awaiting but the sinner’s doom.

  Thine intervention in my woeful state
    I had not hoped for, neither had I sought;
  My dread deserts I felt I must await,
    For sold I had been, and by tyrant bought.

  But oh, Thine infinite and tender love
    That could compassionate one so undone,
  Smote thro’ my gloom with brightness from above
    And, living Father, drew me to Thy Son.

  The welcome Thou didst give me far transcends
    The highest thoughts I had of grace divine,
  And all Thy joy expressed so sweetly blends
    With Thy embrace which won this heart of mine.

  The best Thy house could furnish Thou hast given
    To clothe my nakedness, shoes brought and ring,
  To robe him as a prince whom men had driven
    From hence to wander as a scatterling.

  Brought near to Thee with mirth; no aching void;
    To stand before Thee with Thy well-Beloved,
  And by Thy wondrous kindness overjoyed—
    What soul could enter such a scene unmoved?

  Father supreme! How infinitely good
    To know Thee in Thy grace and love divine!
  And with Thy Son and sons in Brotherhood,
    Knowing that we are His redeemed and Thine.

  Oh, to be with Thee in Thy home above!
    Forever with Thee where Thy glories beam;
  To bask beneath the sunshine of Thy love
    And His, who died our spirits to redeem!

  This is the prospect great to which we haste,
    Ever to be with Thee and with Thy Son;
  And tho’ we wander in this tiresome waste
    Our home is there, for Christ and we are one.

  And in this world my soul is daily learning
    What Thou art in Thy love in which I dwell
  Filled with Thy favour, yet with blissful yearning
    Thy Son to see, whom we have known so well.

  And also in this weary waste I’ve found
    What I so long had sought and sought in vain,
  A happiness that all my joys has crowned,
    And that has all my grief forever slain.