1 Little trav'lers Zionward,
Each one entering into rest,
In the kingdom of your Lord,
In the mansion of the blest;
There to welcome Jesus waits,
Gives the crowns his followers win,
Lift your heads, ye golden gates,
Let the little trav'lers in.

2 Who are they whose little feet,
Pacing life's dark journey through,
Now have reached that heavenly seat,
They had ever kept in view.
"I from Greenland's frozen land,"
"I from Indias' sultry strand,"
"I from Afric's barren sand,"
"I from islands of the main."

3 All our earthly journey past,
Ev'ry tear and pain gone by,
Here together meet at last,
At the portal of the sky.
Each the welcome "Come" awaits,
Conquerors over death and sin,
Lift your heads, ye golden gates,
Let the little trav'lers in.