1 God, who hath made the daisies,
And every lovely thing,
He will accept our praises,
And hearken while we sing.
He says, 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 heaven 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.

4 Therefore we will come near Him,
And joyfully we'll sing;
No cause to shrink or fear Him,
We'll make our voices ring;
For in our temple speaking,
He says to you and me,
Suffer the little children,
And let them come to Me.