Words: , In­fant Breath­ings, 1846, num­­ber 25; ev­i­dent­ly writ­ten for a child’s fun­er­al.

Music: En­ni­us, from Har­mo­nia Sacra, by (1778-1862). Al­ter­nate tunes:

Little travelers Zionward
Each one entering into rest,
In the kingdom of your Lord,
In the mansions of the blest:
There, to welcome, Jesus waits,
Gives the crown His followers win;
Lift your heads, ye golden gates,
Let the little travelers in!

Who are they whose little feet,
Pacing life’s dark journey through,
Now have reached the heavenly seat
They had ever kept in view?
“I from Greenland’s frozen land,”
“I from India’s sultry plain,”
“I from Africa’s barren sand,”
“I from islands of the main.”

“All our earthly journey past,
Every tear and pain gone by,
Here together met 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 travellers in.