1 I think, when I read that sweet story of old,
When Jesus was here among men,
How he called little children as lambs to his fold,
I should like to have been with them then.

2 I wish that his hands had been placed on my head,
That his arm had been thrown around me,
And that I might have seen his kind look when he said,
'Let the little ones come unto me.'

3 Yet still to his footstool in prayer I may go,
And ask for a share in his love;
And, if I now earnestly seek him below,
I shall see him and hear him above.

4 In that beautiful place he is gone to prepare
For all who are washed and forgiven;
And many dear children are gathering there,
'For of such is the kingdom of heaven.'

5 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.

6 I long for for the joy of that glorious time,
The sweetest and brightest and best,
When the dear little children of every clime
Shall crowd to his arms and be blest.