Lo, at noon ’tis sud­den night.
Darkness co­vers all the sky!
Rocks are rend­ing at the sight!
Children, can you tell me why?
What can all these won­ders be?
Jesus dies on Cal­va­ry.

Stretched up­on the cross, behold
How His ten­der limbs are torn!
For a roy­al crown of gold,
They have made Him one of thorn!
Cruel hands, that dare to bind
Thorns up­on a brow so kind.

See! the blood is fall­ing fast
From His fore­head and His side!
Listen! He has breathed His last!
With a migh­ty groan He died!
Children, can you tell me why
Jesus con­des­cends to die?

He, who was a king above,
Left His king­dom for a grave,
Out of pi­ty and of love,
That the guil­ty He might save:
Down to this sad world He flew
For such lit­tle ones as you.

You were wretch­ed, weak, and vile;
You de­served His ho­ly frown;
But He saw you with a smile,
And, to save you, hast­ened down:
Listen, child­ren, this is why
Jesus con­des­cends to die.

Come, then, child­ren, come and see!
Lift your lit­tle hands to pray;
Blessèd Je­sus, par­don me,
Help a guil­ty in­fant, say;
Since it was for such as I
Thou didst con­des­cend to die.