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; 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 now 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 thousand, 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 blest.