Sing to the Lord the children’s hymn,
His gentle love declare,
Who bends amid the seraphim
To hear the children’s prayer.
He at a mother’s breast was fed,
Though God’s own Son was He;
He learnt the first small words He said
At a meek mother’s knee.
He held us to His mighty breast,
The children of the earth;
He lifted up His hands and blessed
The babes of human birth.
Lo! from the stars His face will turn
On us with glances mild;
The angels of His presence yearn
To bless the little child.
Keep us, O Jesus Lord, for Thee,
That so by Thy dear grace
We, children of the font, may see
Our heavenly Father’s face.
