When Children Lift Their Voices

O Lord

the King of glo­ry!

O great and migh­ty King!

The pil­grim old and hoa­ry

May trib­ute to Thee bring;

Manhood with har­vest la­den

May ma­trons lead to see

Each glow­ing youth and maid­en

Their glean­ings bring to Thee.

But that which most re­joic­es

Thee and the host above

Is when child­ren lift their voic­es

And sing the Sav­ior’s love.

O Lord

the King of glo­ry!

O great and migh­ty King!

The hills

tho’ old and hoa­ry

May clap their hands and sing;

The wan­der­ing waves of ocean

May sway to mu­sic sweet;

The dark­est world’s de­vo­tion

May Thy ap­prov­al meet.

But that which most re­joic­es

Thee and the host ab­ove

Is when child­ren lift their voices

And sing the Sav­ior’s love.

O Lord

the King of glo­ry!

O great and migh­ty King!

The stars may tell their sto­ry

The heav’n­ly choirs may sing;

The el­ders Thee ad­or­ing

May kneel be­fore the throne;

Cherub and ser­aph soar­ing

May chant the praise Thine own.

But that which most re­joic­es

Thee and the host ab­ove

Is when child­ren lift their voic­es

And sing the Sav­ior’s love.

O Lord

the King of glo­ry!

O great and migh­ty King!

We love to hear the sto­ry

Of Him to whom we cling;

Still in His arms He rais­es

And smiles as once He smiled

On all who sing Thy prais­es

As sings a lit­tle child.

For that which most re­joic­es

Thee and the host ab­ove

Is when child­ren lift their voic­es

And sing the Sav­ior’s love.