Abashed Be All the Boast of Age!

Abashed be all the boast of age!

Be hoa­ry learn­ing dumb!

Expounder of the mys­tic page

Behold an in­fant come!

Oh

Wis­dom

whose un­fad­ing pow­er

Beside th’Eter­nal stood

To frame

in na­ture’s ear­li­est hour

The land

the sky the flood;

Yet didst not Thou dis­dain awhile

An in­fant form to wear;

To bless Thy mo­ther with a smile

And lisp Thy fal­tered pray­er.

But

in Thy Fa­ther’s own abode

With Is­ra­el’s el­ders round

Conversing high with Is­ra­el’s God

Thy chief­est joy was found.

So may our youth ad­ore Thy name!

And Sav­ior

deign to bless

With fos­ter­ing grace the ti­mid flame

Of ear­ly ho­li­ness.