And round Thy cross, forever blest,
Shall kings and people gather.
The child when born to Thee we take,
To Thee in death we hasten;
In joy we often Thee forsake,
But not when sorrows chasten.
Where truth and virtue are oppressed,
Where sorrow dwells, pain and unrest,
Thy help alone availeth.
Come, Jesus, then, in weal and woe,