1 I think when I read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men;
How He call'd little children as lambs to His fold;
I should like to have been with them then!
I wish that His hands had been placed on my head,
That His arms had been thrown around me,
And that I might have seen His kind look when He said,
"Let the little ones come unto Me."
2 Yet still to His footstool in prayer I may go,
And ask for a share in His love:
And if I thus earnestly seek Him below,
I shall see Him and hear Him above.
In that beautiful place He is gone to prepare
For all who are washed and forgiv'n;
And many dear children are gathering there,
"For of such is the kingdom of Heav'n."
3 But thousands and thousands who wander and fall,
Never heard of that heavenly home;
I should like them to know there is room for them all,
And that Jesus has bid them to come.
I long for the joys of that glorious time,
The sweetest, the brightest, the best,
When the dear little children of every clime
Shall crowd to His arms and be blest!