Ex ore innocentium

It is a thing most wonderful,
almost too wonderful to be,
that God’s own Son should come from heav’n
and die to save a child like me.

And yet I know that it is true,
He chose a poor and humble lot
and wept, and toiled and mourned and died,
for love of those who loved him not.

I sometimes think about the Cross
and shut my eyes and try to see,
the cruel nails and crown of thorns
and Jesus crucified for me.

But even could I see him die,
I should but see a little part,
of that great love, which, like a fire,
is always burning in his heart.

And yet want to love thee Lord,
o light of flame within my heart
and I will love thee more and more,
until I see thee as thou art.