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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 learned 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.