Jesus, Holy, Undefiled

Jesus, holy, undefiled,
Listen to a little child;
Thou hast sent the glorious light,
Chasing far the silent night.

Thou hast sent the sun to shine,
O’er this glorious world of Thine;
Warmth to give and pleasant glow,
On each tender flower below.

Now the little birds arise,
Chirping gaily in the skies;
Thee their tiny voices praise,
In the early songs they raise.

Thou, by whom the birds are fed,
Give to me my daily bread;
And Thy Holy Spirit give,
Without whom I cannot live.

Words: Emily M. Shapcote, 1852.