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.