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." This is my own My beloved son