Hosanna we sing, like the child­ren dear,
In the old­en days when the Lord lived here;
He blessed lit­tle child­ren, and smiled on them,
While they chant­ed His praise in Je­ru­sa­lem.

Alleluia we sing, like the child­ren bright,
With their harps of gold and their rai­ment white,
As they fol­low their shep­herd with lov­ing eyes,
Through the beau­ti­ful val­leys of pa­ra­dise.

Hosanna we sing, for He bends His ear,
And re­joic­es the hymns of His own to hear;
We know that His heart will ne­ver wax cold
To the lambs that He feeds in His earth­ly fold.

Alleluia we sing in the Church we love,
Alleluia re­sounds in the Church above,
To Thy lit­tle ones, Lord, may such grace be giv­en,
That we lose not our part in the song of Heav’n.