1 Beloved of the Lord most high,
Let praises be your sweet employ;
Ye sons of God, rejoice, and sing
The honours of your Lord and King.

2 Your heavenly Father ever lives,
And all his choicest treasure gives
To you, the favourites of his heart,
Nor will he ever with you part.

3 [Whatever be your lot below,
Though you through gloomy paths may go,
Your heavenly Father is your Light,
And he will guide your footsteps right.]

4 In every changing scene below,
’Tis yours by faith this grace to know:
Now are we sons and heirs of God,
Fast hastening to our blest abode.

5 In every trying, deep distress,
In poverty and wretchedness,
This truth sweet comfort should afford:
E’en now we are the sons of God.

6 Let worldlings know we scorn the toys
Which they so highly love and prize;
We must possess all real good,
Since we are sons and heirs of God.

7 Dear Father, bless us with this grace,
While travelling through this wilderness;
Our sonship still to keep in view,
And honour thee in all we do.