Come, Kathleen, nestle near me, dear,
A story I’ll relate
Of Him whom you need never fear,
Although He is so great.
“Twas He who made the stars and sun,
And set them in their place;
‘Twas He who marked the course they run
In their appointed race.
The blade of grass we crush beneath
Our careless tread each day;
The mighty orb which rolls in space
Alike His power display.
Yet He, who was so very great,
A little child became;
He took on earth man’s low estate,
Despising all the shame.
He grew in stature and in grace,
The holy, harmless One;
Perfect He filled His lowly place
As Mary’s subject Son.
He cleansed the lepers, raised the dead,
Gave sight unto the blind;
The hungry multitude He fed—
He was so good and kind.
But who responded to His call,
Or to His word gave heed?
A few poor fishermen were all
Who felt and owned their need.
One way alone was left to save
A guilty, ruined race;
God’s righteous wrath the Son must brave,
Must take the sinner’s place.
And there upon the cross we see
The blest, eternal Son;
The One who made the earth and sea,
Who spake, and it was done.
That One! made sin upon the tree,
O miracle of grace!
Rejected and despised, that we
Might see His glorious face,
And dwell with Him and taste the joy
Of all that bliss above,
Where it shall be our blest employ
To sing His boundless love.
O trust in Him who loves you so,
And you shall happy be,
And more of His deep love shall know
Throughout eternity.
ML 02/16/1941