Here come your children, Jesus
Here come your children, Jesus, they
to Bethlehem all make their way;
to every soul and mind give light
to find the path to you aright.
With songs we hasten you to meet
and kiss the dust here at your feet;
o blessed hour, o night so clear,
when you were born, soul’s treasure dear!
When you came from your heav’nly throne
to this drear vale, the welcome shown
was nothing else, while you drew breath,
than stable, manger, cross and death.
In Satan’s power the whole world stood,
when Jesus, hands bright red with blood,
with mighty power did tear us free
from all our foes’ foul tyranny.
But Jesus, ah, how can it be
that so few people try to see
the fervent nature of your love
that drew you earthwards from above?
So draw us close up to your breast,
o Jesus, friend our soul loves best,
that each of us may by your grace
and through our faith you then embrace.
Let not the world’s power break your prized
firm convenant with all baptised,
but grant that all our longing stay
for you, for you alone, we pray!
Then it shall be that we one day,
among the saints’ rejoicing, may
in heaven’s paradise anew
your praises sing as angels do!
We stand here now, a mighty host,
around you, flower-heart we love most.
Ah, help us, so this mortal bandone day before your throne may stand!