Lord, Thy child­ren low­ly bend­ing,
Bow be­fore Thy throne;
Praise from youth­ful lips as­cend­ing
Wilt Thou deign to own?
Wilt Thou hear us while we bless Thee,
And con­fess Thee God alone?

Yes, Thou wilt, for Thou dost love us,
Cam’st for us to die;
Bending from Thy throne ab­ove us,
With a pi­ty­ing eye,
Well we know that Thou art near us,
And will hear us when we cry.

Then our hum­ble prais­es bring­ing,
We will seek Thy face;
Hymns with grate­ful voic­es sing­ing
In this hal­lowed place.
We will dare to come be­fore Thee,
And ad­ore Thee, Lord of grace.