I wish he rather went to You when he saw her down the lane.
If only had he known You then.
Did the child know he didn’t have to be loud?
He didn’t need the little mores, but did he still push through the crowd?
Was it there he began running?
It was probably not late.
But I don’t know if he has ever stopped yet.

I wish he rather went to You when he stretched before those men.
If only had he known You then.
Did the child tremble guarding his mother like a shield?
Did he not know there was no might that he could yield?
Was it there he began trying?
It was probably not late.
But I don’t know if he has ever stopped yet.

I wish he rather went to You when they praised what he had penned.
If only had he known You then.
Did the child’s wide smile hide that hole in his core?
Picking whatever was scattered, did he yearn to fill it more?
Was it there he began stuffing?
It was probably not late.
But I don’t know if he has ever stopped yet.

I wish he rather went to You when he pulled the rope in vain.
If only had he known You then.
Did the child, for once, crave a knock on his door?
Who did he think of while he was lying on that floor?
Was it there he began crying?
It was probably not late.
But I don’t know if he has ever stopped yet.

He knows you now, will he free his hands and lean?
Even before he found you, will he know that you found him?
In his pain, pride and pleasure, will You now let him know?
That if not to the Father, there is nowhere he can go!