tr., Emma Frances Bevan, 1899 O Lord Jesus, high in Heaven, God's belovèd One, Crowned with glory and with honour, Brighter than the sun -- Art Thou Him whom little children Knew long years ago, When a little child amongst them Thou didst come and go? Well they knew the little cottage, Small, and poor, and mean, Where Thou wert a child obedient As no child has been -- Holy, true, and tender, doing All Thy Father's will; If men loved, or if they hated, Loving, serving still. Well they knew the workshop lowly Where Thy days were spent, Through the summer and the winter, Peaceful and content. O Lord Jesus, not as Thou wert Have I ever been; Selfishness and pride and anger In my ways are seen. Yet I would that I were like Thee, Holy, tender, true, As Thou didst and as Thou spakest Would I speak and do. Never selfish, never murmuring, Loving, serving all, Till in heaven amidst Thy glory At Thy feet I fall -- See Thee who a child becamest In a cottage poor, That I might in Thy fair palace Dwell for evermore. THE END. Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. |
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