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 Him 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
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 blest.