By cool Siloam’s shady rill
How fair the lily grows!
How sweet the breath, beneath the hill,
Of Sharon’s dewy rose!

Lo! such the child whose early feet
The paths of peace have trod,
Whose secret heart, with influence sweet,
Is upward drawn to God.

By cool Siloam’s shady rill
The lily must decay;
The rose that blooms beneath the hill
Must shortly fade away.

And soon, too soon, the wintry hour
Of man’s maturer age
Will shake the soul with sorrow’s power
And stormy passion’s rage.

O Thou Whose infant feet were found
Within Thy Father’s shrine,
Whose years with changeless virtue crowned,
Were all alike divine.

Dependent on Thy bounteous breath,
We seek Thy grace alone,
In childhood, manhood, age, and death
To keep us still Thine own.

Once Jesus was a child like me,
But O, so kind and true;
His ever watchful eye can see
The very things I do.

Refrain

Yes, Jesus was a child like me,
But O, so pure and true;
My blessèd Savior He will be,
If I but love Him, too.

He played upon the village street,
In such a pleasant way;
And ran with glad and willing feet,
His parents to obey.

Refrain

I want to be His little child,
And more like Him to grow;
And ever truthful, good and mild,
Because He loves me so.

Refrain

And now to Jesus I will pray,
To pardon me from sin;
And if I serve Him every day,
His blessing I shall win.

Refrain

What wisdom, majesty and grace
Through all the Gospel shine!
’Tis God that speaks, and we confess
The doctrine most divine.

Down from His starry throne on high,
Th’almighty Savior comes;
Lays His bright robes of glory by,
And feeble flesh assumes.

The mighty debt that sinners owed,
Upon the cross He pays;
Then through the clouds ascends to God,
’Midst shouts of loftiest praise.

There He, our great High Priest, appears,
Before His Father’s throne;
Mingles His merits with our tears,
And pours salvation down.