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.
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