1 At Jesus' feet our infant sweet
We lay with all its stain,
That renders it for heaven unmeet
Until 'tis born again.
We here embrace His proffered grace
In this baptismal wave,
Nor shall the world our trust efface--
The bath its soul will save.

2 We fail to see the Holy Three
Concealed the font within,
Mere water seems the mystery
That cleases us from sin;
But who may tell what virtues dwell
Through God's Word in that flood;
Or who the simple faith repel
That owns it Jesus' blood?

3 We bring our child by sin defiled,
Then, dearest Lord! to Thee,
Here clothe it in Thy nature mild,
From sin here make it free;
And buried here in death severe,
To new life may it rise,
And trained for Thee, with Thee appear
Immortal in the skies.