WHILE Jesus lived on earth,
The young were oft his care,
For all of human birth,
His sympathy could share;
A smile on waiting groups he shed,
And blest in turn each sunny head.

And still, with kindling eye,
He looks on pupils here,
Still bending from the sky,
Their bosoms would he cheer.
For doubly precious does he prize,
Life's earliest, purest sacrifice.

Then let us round his throne,
With grateful feelings kneel,
Christ as our Master own,
And every want reveal:
Implore his guidance till, in death,
We praise him with our latest breath.

Lord, save us by thy grace,
And wash us by thy blood;
And may we see thy face,
Beyond the icy flood,
Until at last our feeble hymn,
Blends with the songs of Seraphim.