Little children, pressing near
To the feet of Christ the King,
Have you neither doubt nor fear?
Or, some tribute do you bring?
Are your little hands so filled
With bright gold and rarest gem,
That you dare to press so close,
Even touch His garment's hem?
Little children, you may come to Him;
If you want Him you may come to Him,
For He waits this very day,
All your sins to take away.
Nay, you know not Christ the King;
He no costly gift demands;
More than gold or sparkling gems,
Jesus loves our little hands;
Empty tho' they be, and weak,
He will take them in His own;
He will bend to hear our prayer,
Even from His gracious throne.
Well we know that we are touched
With the deep, dark stain of sin;
Well we know its shadow falls
All around, without, within;
But our Saviour knows it too,
And He bids us still to come;
Trusting in His tender love,
Press we fearless toward His home.
He will cleanse our guilty stains;
Give us robes so fair and white,
That we shall not dread to stand
E'en before God's piercing sight;
Holy angels cannot sing
Such a joyous, gladsome song,
As the happy little ones,
Who to Christ the Lord belong.