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“SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN TO COME UNTO ME.”
'Tis not pride, nor wealth, nor beauty,
That can win a Saviour's love;
'Tis not care, nor formal duty,
That the heart's affection prove.
That can win a Saviour's love;
'Tis not care, nor formal duty,
That the heart's affection prove.
92
Wisdom cannot stoop so lowly;
Hot ambition seeks not rest;
Man desires not to be holy:
Bring, then, little ones to Christ.
Hot ambition seeks not rest;
Man desires not to be holy:
Bring, then, little ones to Christ.
On their happy rosy faces
There are no deep lines of sin,
None of passion's dreary traces
That betray the storms within.
There are no deep lines of sin,
None of passion's dreary traces
That betray the storms within.
But their's is the sunny dimple,
Lit with love and cherub smiles—
Their's the heart, sincere and simple,
Innocent of selfish wiles.
Lit with love and cherub smiles—
Their's the heart, sincere and simple,
Innocent of selfish wiles.
'Tis not that they're guileless wholly,
But they do not love deceit;
'Tis not that they're free from folly,
But that love sincere is sweet.
But they do not love deceit;
'Tis not that they're free from folly,
But that love sincere is sweet.
Bring, then, to their gracious Saviour,
Bring the little ones to Him:
On such children of his favour,
Glory's sun is never dim.
Bring the little ones to Him:
On such children of his favour,
Glory's sun is never dim.
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