445. C. M. Doddridge.
"Now are we sons of God."
1How rich thy favors, God of grace!
How various, how divine!
Full as the ocean they are poured,
And bright as heaven they shine.
2He to eternal glory calls,
And leads the wondrous way
To his own palace where he reigns
In uncreated day.
3Jesus, the herald of his love,
Displays the radiant prize,
A crown of never-ending bliss,
To our admiring eyes.
4The songs of everlasting years
That mercy shall attend,
Which leads, through sufferings of an hour,
To joys that never end.