1 O little One who art so great,
Today there would be weeping skies;
For holy Heav’n foresees the hate
Against Thee that on earth will rise;
Were not the holy Heaven sure
That love will work of hate the cure.
2 A heart the gladdest and the best
Thou hast, Thy Father’s babe and ours;
Smile, little One, in happy rest,
There wait Thee dark tumultuous hours;
I see them, O, I see them near,
And almost wish Thou were not here.
3 I know Thee, Jesus, who Thou art;
But what have we to do with Thee,
That Thou shouldst choose the bitterest part,
And sink Thyself in misery?
Sorrows Thy love will steep Thee in,
But sorrows love for Thee will win.
4 Rest, Nursling, in Thine innocence;
King Herod’s dagger cannot slay;
To darker death Thou goest hence,
Toiling along a narrow way,
Which ever leads from bad to worse,
All thorny with an ancient curse.
5 A curse! O mother, dost thou hear
What must befall thy little son?
Smile, Baby, at Thy mother’s tear,
The blessing by the curse is won;
Purer than snow will be our gains,
By horror of His crimson stains.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #13174
Lynch, Thomas Toke, was born at Dunmow, Essex, July 5, 1818, and educated at a school at Islington, in which he was afterwards an usher. For a few months he was a student at the Highbury Independent College; but withdrew, partly on account of failing health, and partly because his spirit was too free to submit to the routine of College life. From 1847 to 1849 he was Minister of a small charge at Highgate, and from 1849 to 1852 of a congregation in Mortimer Street, which subsequently migrated to Grafton Street, Fitzroy Square. From 1856 to 1859 he was laid aside by illness. In 1860 he resumed his ministry with his old congregation, in a room in Gower Street, where he remained until the opening of his new place of worship, in 1862, (Morningto… Go to person page >
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