O child of low­ly man­ger birth
On whose low cry the ag­es wait,
Lead us Thy way, and ev­ery day
Guide us to see what made Thee great.

O Je­sus, youth of Na­za­reth,
Preparing for the bit­ter strife,
Wilt Thou im­part to ev­ery heart
Thy per­fect pu­ri­ty of life?

O Christ whose words make dear the fields
And hill­sides green of Ga­li­lee,
Grant us to find, with re­ver­ent mind,
The truth Thou saidst should make us free.

O suf­fer­ing Lord on Cal­va­ry,
Whom love led on to mor­tal pain,
We know Thy cross is not a loss
If we Thy love shall tru­ly gain.

O Mas­ter of abun­dant life
From na­tal morn to vic­to­ry’s hour,
We look to Thee, heed Thou our plea,
Teach us to share Thy age­less pow­er.