A holy Father's constant care
Keeps watch, with an unwearying eye,
To see what fruits His children bear,
Fruits that may suit their calling high;
Takes ever knowledge of our state -
What dims communion with His love,
Might check our growth or separate
Our hearts from what's revealed above.
Oh, wondrous Love, that ne'er forgets
The object of its tender care;
May chasten still, while sin besets,
To warn and guard them where they are;
But ne'er forgets, but feeds them still
With tokens of His tender love;
Will keep till, freed from every ill,
They find their rest with Him above.
Oh, wondrous, infinite, divine!
Keep near, my soul, to that blest place,
Where all those heavenly glories shine
Which suit the brightness of His face.
Oh, lowliness, how feebly known,
That meets the grace that gave the Son!
That waits, to serve Him as His own,
Till grace what grace began shall crown!