Come, children, and learn of the infinite grace
Of Jesus, in coming to die;
How He left His high throne, in the glory above,
His beautiful home in the sky.
Oh, think of the Lamb who on Calvary died,
And died for such sinners as we;
Of the thorns on His brow and the spear in His side,
When He suffered and bled on the tree.

Ah! never was sorrow so bitter as this,
The anguish He suffered below,
For the dear Son of God had done nothing amiss,
'Twas for others He tasted such woe.
Oh, think of His love when He gave up His life
For sinners so guilty as we;
'Twas for them that He finished the conflict and strife,
'Twas for them that He bled on the tree.

Give ear, little ones, is it nothing to you,
The tale of His wonderful grace?
When He comes in the clouds, will you joyfully view,
Or tremble to look at His face?
Oh, think of the Lamb who on Calvary died,
And died for such sinners as we;
Of the thorns on His brow, and the spear in His side,
When He suffered and bled on the tree.

When He cometh back in His glory so bright,
The wicked may well have despair;
But children who love Him will rise with delight,
To meet their blest Lord in the air.
Oh, think of His love when He gave up His life
For sinners so guilty as we;
'Twas for them that He finished the conflict and strife,
'Twas for them that He bled on the tree.