I saw Him in child­hood with eyes bright­ly beaming,
At home in the hills where the sun­light was stream­ing;
We played with the stars, on the clouds swift­ly rid­ing,
And saw not the cross which the wood­lands were hid­ing.

I saw Him in youth when my soul was un­fold­ing,
My spir­it flew high when His glo­ry be­hold­ing;
He beck­oned my soul, and He filled me with glad­ness,
His glo­ry lent bright­ness to life’s gloom and sad­ness.

I saw Him in man­hood, when Ad­am re­sem­bling,
My soul for His judg­ment, all righ­teous, was trem­bling,
When dimmed were my eyes and my vi­sion was dark­ened,
Since un­to the tempt­er my spir­it had harkened.

First then I could call Him my Mas­ter and Sav­ior,
First then I could look on the cross as a fa­vor,
First then I could give Him my brok­en down spir­it,
In life and in death to re­ly on His mer­it.

Since then I have told Him, to Him I will hur­ry
With weep­ing my face in His bo­som to bury;
Since then I have asked Him with mer­cy to guide me
And in His pa­vil­ion se­cure­ly to hide me.

To Him I will hast­en, His name soft­ly call­ing
When brok­en and wea­ry my house shall be fall­ing;
I’ll greet Him with joy when my heart ceas­es beat­ing,
And un­to His king­dom my spir­it is flee­ing.