The Father looks on me and sees
Not what I was or am;
He views the righteousness of Christ,
And not my cursed sin.
The Father looks and pities me;
He knows that I am dust.
He treats me not as I deserve,
But as though I were just.
The Father looks on me and gives
A loaf and not a stone.
He showers me with perfect gifts,
For all my needs are known.
The Father looks on me with love—
A child He's welcomed home.
He found an orphan, poor and soiled,
Yet claimed me as His own.
The Father looks for me with hope,
For me, His wayward son.
I stand afar, detained by shame;
He cries for joy and runs!
The Father looks on me and smiles,
For it is Christ He sees;
""This is my own beloved son,
In whom I am well pleased."
