1 God, who hath made the daisies,
And every lovely thing,
He will accept our praises,
And hearken while we sing;
Will say, though we are simple,
Though ignorant we be,
"Suffer the little children,
And let them come to Me."
2 Though we are young and simple,
In praise we may be bold;
The children in the temple
He heard in days of old;
And if our hearts are humble,
He says to you and me,
"Suffer the little children,
And let them come to Me."
3 He sees the bird that wingeth
Its way o’er earth and sky;
He hears the lark that singeth
Up in the heav’n so high;
He sees the heart’s low breathings,
And says (well pleased to see)
"Suffer the little children,
And let them come to Me."
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