Father! we Thy children bless Thee,
For Thy love on us bestow'd;
As our Father we address Thee,
Called to be the sons of Ail;
Wondrous was Thy love in giving
Jesus for our sins to die;
Wondrous was His grace in yielding
To the great behest from high.

Now the sprinkled blood has freed us,
On we go toward our rest;
Through the desert daily lead us,
With Thy constant favour blest.
By Thy word our footsteps guiding,
Lead us in the way of life;
Still our daily food providing,
Help us in the worldly strife.

Though our pilgrimage be dreary,
This is not our resting place;
Shall we of the way be weary,
When we see the Master's face?
No; by faith anticipating,
In this hope our souls rejoice;
We, His promis'd advent waiting,
Long to hear His welcome voice.

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