SWEETLY o'er Judea's valleys 

  Sounded far a voice of old, 

Like a strain of angel music

Floating down from gates of gold: 

"Let them come, the little children, 

Hinder not their eager feet; 

Sure of such my heavenly kingdom; 

Theirs is service glad and sweet."

Blessed Saviour! Thou didst suffer

Little ones to come to thee: 

Lo, we offer now our tribute;

Let our praise accepted be. 

Mid the hallelujahs ringing,

Mid the burst of angel-song, 

Stoop to hear our childish hymning

While we glad the notes prolong.

We have found there's room for children,

We have found there's work to do; 

All our hearts and hands enlisting,

May we to that work be true! 

In the great and glorious army,

Battling with the hosts of sin, 

We can march with banners flying,

We can help the victory win.

Good Times.