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 hand 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.”

Yet still to His footstool in prayer I may go,

And ask for a share in His love;

And if only I earnestly seek Him below,

I shall see Him and hear Him above.

In that beautiful place He has gone to prepare

For all who are washed and forgiven,

Full many dear children are gathering there,

“For of such is the kingdom of heaven”

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.

And O how I long for 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!