Scripture Verse

Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man. Luke 2:52


Gottfried W. Fink (1783–1846)

Words: Har­ry M. Hedge, in Liv­ing Hymns, by Will­iam E. Chal­mers et al. (Phi­la­del­phia, Penn­syl­van­ia: Jud­son Press, 1923), num­ber 54. This source does not give the au­thor—Hedge’s name ap­pears in oth­er hym­nals.

Music: Beth­le­hem (Fink) Gott­fried W. Fink, 1842 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tune:

If you know when this hymn was writ­ten, or where to get a good pho­to of Hedge (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),


O Je­sus, once a Na­za­reth boy,
And tempt­ed like as we,
All inw­ard foes help us de­stroy
And spot­less all to be.
We trust Thee for the grace to win
The high, vic­to­ri­ous, goal,
Where pu­ri­ty shall con­quer sin
In Christ­like self con­trol.

O Je­sus, Prince of life and truth,
Beneath Thy ban­ner bright,
We de­di­cate our strength and youth
To bat­tle for the right;
We give our lives with glad in­tent
To serve the world and Thee,
To die, to suf­fer and be spent
To set our bro­thers free.

In ser­ried ranks, we fear­less tread,
O Cap­tain of us all,
Thy glo­ry on our ban­ners shed,
We answer to Thy call;
And where the fierc­est bat­tles press
Against the hosts of sin,
To res­cue those in dire dis­tress
We glad­ly en­ter in.

Christ in the House of His Parents
John Everett Millais (1829–1896)

Mary at Nazareth

I know, Lord, Thou hast sent Him
Thou art so good to me !
But Thou hast only lent Him,
His heart’s for Thee.

I dared—Thy poor hand-maiden—
Not ask a prophet-child:
Only a boy-babe laden
For earth—and mild.

But this one Thou has given
Seems not for earth—or me!
His lips flame truth from heaven,
And vanity…

Seem all my thoughts and prayers
When He but speaks Thy law;
Out of my heart the tares
Are torn by awe!

I cannot look upon Him
So strangely burn His eyes—
Hath not some grieving drawn Him
From Paradise?

For Thee, for Thee I’d live, Lord !
Yet oft I almost fall
Before Him—Oh, forgive, Lord,
My sinful thrall!

But e’en when He was nursing,
A baby at my breast,
It seemed He was dispersing
The world’s unrest.

Thou bad ’st me call Him Jesus
And from our heavy sin
I know He shall release us,
From She­ol win.

But, Lord, forgive! the yearning
That He may sometimes be
Like other children, learning
Beside my knee.

Or playing, prattling, seeking
For help—comes to my heart…
Ah sinful, Lord, I’m speaking
How good Thou art.

Cale Young Rice
Plays and Lyrics, 1906