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.

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.”

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 forgiven;

And many dear children are gathering there—

“For of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

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 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 blessed.