Happy’s the child whose youngest years
Receive instruction well;
Who hates the sinner’s path, and fears
The road that leads to hell.
When we devote our youth to God,
‘Tis pleasing in his eyes;
A flower, when offer’d in the bud,
Is no vain sacrifice.
‘Tis easier work if we begin
To fear the Lord betimes;
While sinners that grow old in sin
Are hard’ned in their crimes.
‘Twill save us from a thousand snares
To mind religion young;
Grace will preserve our following years
And make our vertue strong.
To thee, Almighty God, to thee
Our childhood we resign;
‘Twill please us to look back and see
That our whole lives were thine.
Let the sweet work of prayer and praise,
Employ my youngest breath;
Thus I’m prepar’d for longer days,
Or fit for early death.