O happy child, whose every sin
Is put away by Jesus’ blood;
All spotless, clean and pure within,
Made fit to meet a holy God.

O happy child, to whom the Lord
Will not impute a guilty stain;
Who sees by faith his sins transferred
To Christ, the Lamb who once was slain.

He knows himself a wretch undone,
Unworthy of a Saviour’s love;
Yet rests on Jesus Christ alone,
And hopes to reign with Him above.

Then tempests may around him rise,
He sees with calm, untroubled face,
The wildest storm, the darkest skies,
For Jesus is his Hiding-Place;

His Guide, his Guard, his All in all,
His joy in health and sickness too;
Who raised him from the lowest fall,
And will in safety bring him through.

When sorrows o’er the wicked roll,
He, he shall triumph and rejoice;
Shall feel a peaceful rest of soul,
And praise his God with cheerful voice.