1 An early summons Jesus sends,
To call a child above,
Yet whispers to the weeping friends,
'Tis all the fruit of love.

2 To save your darling child from woe,
And sin-alluring charms,
From all the griefs you feel below,
I take it to my arms.

3 Then do not rashly with me strive,
Nor vainly fast nor weep;
The child, though dead, is still alive,
Its body does but sleep.

4 'Tis where the pure in heart see God,
It feels no sorrow there;
'Tis by a heavenly parent fed,
And needs no more your care.

5 I loaned it for a little space;
While mortal it was thine;
Then took it to my fond embrace;
It lives for ever mine.

6 Now seek the Lord with all your heart,
And know your sins forgiven;
Then you shall meet, and never part,
With those you love in heaven.