1 Thy life I read, my dearest Lord,
With transport all divine;
Thine image trace in every word,
Thy love in every line.

2 Methinks I see a thousand charms
Spread o'er thy lovely face,
While infants in thy tender arms
Receive the smiling grace.

3 "I take thees lambs," said he,
"And lay them in my breast;
"Protection they shall find in me,
"In me be ever blest.

4 "Death may the bands of life unloose,
"But can't dissolve my love;
"Millions of infant souls compose
"The family above.

5 "Their feeble frames my power shall raise,
"And mould with heavenly skill:
'I'll give them tongues to sing my praise,
"And hands to do my will."

6 His words the happy parents hear,
And shout with joys divine,
Dear Saviour, all we have and are
Shall be for ever thine.