The dear little children that climb on the knee,
The promise and hope of the morrows to be
--Their song is unfailing; their spirits are bright;
Their hearts are courageous from morning till night,
How helpless they are! On our mercy they wait.
The hands of their elders must fashion their fate.
They are frail little barks to be launched on the sea
--These dear little children that climb on the knee.
Oh guide them with hands that are tender and true.
The voyage is long and the lighthouses few.
What struggles await them! What conflicts and fears!
What dream castles shattered! What heartaches and tears!
Their skies will have clouds, and the clouds will bring rain.
Then all will give way to the sunshine again.
Bound upon their souls are the ages to be
--These dear little children that climb on the knee.