When Jesus left His Father’s throne,
He chose a humble birth;
Alike unhonoured and unknown,
He came to dwell on earth.
Sweet were His words, and kind His look,
When mothers round Him pressed;
Their infants in His arms He took,
And on His bosom blessed.
Safe from the world’s alluring charms,
Beneath His watchful eye,
Thus in the circle of His arms
May we for ever lie!
When Jesus into Salem rode,
The children sang around;
For joy they plucked the palms, and strewed
Their garments on the ground.
Hosanna our glad voices raise,
Hosanna to our King!
Should we forget our Saviour’s praise,
The stones themselves would sing!