When Thou didst with pi­ty­ing eye
Leave Thy Fa­ther’s throne on high—
Leave a hea­ven­ly dia­dem
For a crib in Beth­le­hem,
Jesus, Thou didst think of me;
Do I, do I think of Thee?

Blessing, help­ing ev­ery­one,
Yet re­ject­ed by Thine own;
Buffeted and spit upon,
O, Thou bless­èd Ho­ly One,
This, be­cause Thou thought of me!
Do I, do I think of Thee?

Praying in Geth­se­ma­ne;
Agonizing on the tree;
When, with break­ing heart, Thou cried
It is fin­ished, bowed and died,
Jesus, Thou didst think of me!
Do I, do I think of Thee?

On His hands my name I see:
In the grave He thinks of me,
Vain, oh Cal­va­ry, Thy doom!
Jesus ris­es from the tomb,
Evermore to think of me;
Jesus, I will think of Thee.