[Illustration.]
Into her chamber went
A little girl one day,
And by a chair she knelt,
And thus began to pray:--
"Jesus, my eyes I close,
Thy form I cannot see;
If Thou art near me, Lord,
I pray Thee to speak to me."
A still, small voice she heard within her soul--
"What is it child? I hear thee; tell the whole."
"I pray thee, Lord," she said,
"That Thou wilt condescend
To tarry in my heart
And ever be my Friend.
"The path of life is dark,
I would not go astray;
Oh, let me have Thy hand
To lead me in the way."
"Fear not; I will not leave thee, child, alone."
She thought she felt a soft hand press her own.
"They tell me, Lord, that all
The living pass away;
The aged soon must die,
And even children may.
"Oh, let my parents live
Till I a woman grow;
For if they die, what can
A little orphan do?"
"Fear not, my child; whatever ill may come
I'll not forsake thee till I bring thee home."
Her little prayer was said,
And from her chamber now
She passed forth with the light
Of heaven upon her brow.
"Mother, I've seen the Lord,
His hand in mine I felt,
And, oh, I heard Him say,
As by my chair I knelt--
"'Fear not, my child; whatever ill may come
I'll not forsake thee till I bring thee home.'"