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.
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