THERE’S a rest for little children,
Above the bright blue sky,
Who love the blessed Saviour,
And “Abba, Father,” cry:
A rest from every turmoil,
From sin and danger free;
Where every little pilgrim
Shall rest eternally.
There’s a home for little children,
Above the bright blue sky,
Where Jesus reigns in glory,
A home of peace and joy.
No home on earth is like it,
Or can with it compare;
For every one is happy,
Nor could be happier, there.
There’s a Friend for little children,
Above the bright blue sky,
A Friend who never changeth,
Whose love can never die.
Unlike our friends by nature,
Who change with changing years,
This Friend is always worthy
The precious name He bears.
There’s a crown for little children,
Above the bright blue sky,
And all who look for Jesus
Shall wear it by-and-by.
A crown of brightest glory,
Which He will then bestow
On all who’ve found His favour
And loved His name below.
There’s a song for little children,
Above the bright blue sky—
A song that will not weary,
Though sung continually:
A song which even angels
Can never, never sing;
They know not Christ as Saviour,
But worship Him as King.
There’s a robe for little children,
Above the bright blue sky;
And a harp of sweetest music,
And a palm of victory.
All, all above is treasured,
And found in Christ alone:
Oh, come, dear little children,
That all may be your own