Gather the children, Mother,
The little heads close to your knee
In the hush of the beautiful twilight,
And talk to them tenderly.
When the bright eyes grow tired and restless
And gaze at you wistfully
And the sweet lips beg for a story,
Then gather them close to your knee.
Not long will your little ones linger
So talk to them while you may.
A world may be better tomorrow
For the story you're telling today.
So tell them the story of Jesus,
For the child's heart is tender and true;
And not all the teachers and preachers
Can guide them, oh Mother, like you.