My little boy at Christmas-tide
⁠Made me a toy cross ;
Two sticks he did, in boyish pride,
⁠With brazen nail emboss.

Ah me! how soon, on either side
⁠His dying bed's true cross.
She and I were crucified,
⁠Bemoaning our life-loss!

But He, whose arms in death spread wide
⁠Upon the holy tree,
Were clasped about him when he died—
⁠Clasped for eternity!