1 Thy life I read, my dearest Lord!
With transport all divine;
Thine image trace in every word--
Thy love in every line.

2 Methinks I see a thousand charms
Spread o'er thy lovely face,
While infants in thy tender arms
Receive the smiling grace.

3 'I take these lambs,' said he,
And lay them in my breast;
Protection they shall find in me,--
In me be ever blest.

4 'Death may the bands of life unloose,
But can't dissolve my love;
Millions of infant souls compose
The family above.

5 'Their feeble frames my power shall raise,
And mould with heavenly skill:
I'll give them tongues to sing my praise,
And hands to do my will.'

6 His words the happy parents hear,
And shout, with joys divine,
Dear Saviour, all we have and are
Shall be for ever thine.