When Je­sus left His Fa­ther’s throne,
He chose a hum­ble birth;
Like us, un­hon­ored and un­known,
He came to dwell on earth.
Like Him may we be found be­low,
In wis­dom’s path of peace;
Like Him, in grace and know­ledge grow,
As years and strength in­crease.

Jesus passed by the rich and great,
For men of low de­gree;
He sanc­ti­fied our par­ents’ state,
For poor like them was He.
Sweet were His words and kind His look,
When mo­thers round Him pressed;
Their in­fants in His arms He took,
And on His bo­som blessed.

Safe from the world’s al­lur­ing harms,
Beneath His watch­ful eye,
Thus in the cir­cle of His arms
May we for­ev­er lie.
When Je­sus in­to Sa­lem rode,
The child­ren sang around;
For joy they plucked the palms and strewed
Their gar­ments on the ground.

Hosanna our glad voic­es raise,
Hosanna to our king;
Should we for­get our Sav­ior’s praise,
The stones them­selves would sing.
For we have learned to love His name;
That name di­vine­ly sweet,
May ev­ery pulse through life pro­claim,
And our last breath re­peat.