Now from His Cradle

Now from his cra­dle comes the child

By the Most High

Trained for his own great min­is­try:

He

far from man

drinks in the wild

The springs of wis­dom un­de­filed.

Far ’mid the de­sert caves pro­found

’Mid low-browed rocks

Where ev­ery noise lorn ec­ho mocks

The bees that in the rock abound

And mount­ain streams

the on­ly sound.

With limbs long trained to har­di­hood

The ca­mel’s hair

Wrapped rude­ly round his bo­dy bare

There in the wild Christ’s sol­dier stood

The de­sert spoils his on­ly food.

With strong-bent hope his soul doth burn

From Sa­tan’s thrall

That faith­less na­tion to re­call—

That fa­thers might of child­ren learn

And child­ren to their fa­thers turn.

And now to God all praise de­clare

In might ar­rayed

The Fa­ther who the world hath made

The Son who doth the world re­pair

And Spir­it that doth keep it fair.