Like as a mo­ther com­fort­eth
O words of gen­tle worth!
So will I com­fort you, de­clares
The Lord of all the earth.

He bends in faith­ful watch­ful­ness;
He slum­bers not nor sleeps;
Above His trust­ing child the Lord
A con­stant vi­gil keeps.

He pa­tient is, as mo­thers are
Who love their child­ren well;
Our faults and fail­ings He for­gives;
His mer­cies—who can tell!

Like as a mo­ther, grant, O God,
This like­ness e’er may be
A ho­ly sym­bol to de­clare
The love that dwells in Thee.