HOLY JESUS, meek and mild,
Once was born a little child.
In a manger He was laid,
With no pillow for His head.
All His life He loved to do
Just what God would tell Him to;
Good and kind to every one―
God’s beloved holy Son.
Wicked men―though He was good―
Nailed Him to a cross of wood;
And God’s holy anger, too,
Fell on Him instead of you.
Why was this? you well may say―
‘Twas to put our sins away;
There He died that we might be
Saved from sin’s dark penalty.
Do you love Him, little child―
This dear Jesus, meek and mild?
Do you wish to see His face,
And to thank Him for His grace?
It will be a happy song
Through eternity so long:
Unto Him that died for me,
Praises, endless praises be!
W.T.