Now, children, come and listen all,

While I shall tell to you
A story you would like to hear,
And it is strictly true.

My tale is of a little boy

Who lived some time ago,

And poverty and sorrow great
Was early called to know.

Though not so old as some of you,

Yet, very sad to say,

The solemn hand of death had borne
His father dear away.

One day he saw his mother weep;
He was a thoughtful lad;
"Mother, why do you weep?" he said,
"And why are you so sad ?"

His tender mother then replied,
"I would not make you sad;
And did not know you saw my tears,
But things with us are bad;

"And often, when I am alone,
My sorrow-stricken heart

Is fill'd with grief, and to my eyes
The briny tears will start.

"It grieves me much to tell you so,
But, since your father died,
For you, your little sisters too,
I cannot now provide,

"And send you unto school likewise,

So you must something do;

A situation I have got

As errand boy for you."

"Well, mother dear, don't fret and cry,"

Replied the little man ; "And I will gladly go and work,

And help you all I can."

So on the morrow soon he rose,

And to his duties sped,

Well pleased that he could something do

To earn his daily bread.

The first day to the post office
With letters he was sent,

And wondered, as he dropped them in,
Wherever they all went.

He ask'd a kind man standing by,
If he could to him tell,
And he unto the listening lad
Explained the matter well:

66

'Suppose,” said he, “ that, far away,
You have an absent friend;

Some wish or message unto him
Perhaps you'd like to send ;

“Well, in your letter tell him all
You wish that he should know,
Then in this manner fold it up,
And seal it so and so.

"Then write his name, and where he lives, Upon the back, you know,

And then to whom it is addressed

'Twill very quickly go."

Now all was plain, he nothing said,

But in his busy mind

He turned the matter o'er, and thought,
Jesus is very kind.

"I've heard He's good unto the poor ;
If I to Him should write,

And ask Him now to send us help,
I think perhaps He might."

He wrote a letter that same night,
When he was all alone :

Now, shall I tell you how he made
His simple wishes known?

"Father is dead, and mother weeps,

And she is very sad

Because we are so very poor;

Lord Jesus, make us glad!

"She'd like to send me unto school

A little longer yet,

But this she cannot do because
No money she can get.

"Her heart is sad from day to day,
She is in trouble sore;

Lord Jesus, please to help her soon,
That she may weep no more!"

This done, he neatly folded up
And sealed with wax the note,
"To the Lord Jesus Christ in Heaven,"
Upon the back he wrote.

Then with a lighter, hopeful heart,

Off to the office ran,

And put it in, and then to look

For a reply began.

But soon the postmaster he came
To sort the letters out,

To see to whom they were address'd,
And send them all about.

But, when he saw this letter small,
Written with so much care,
He thought it such a strange address,
He could not send it there.

And while he held it in his hand,
Not knowing what to do,

And, pondering on it, in there came
A minister he knew.

To him the tale he quiekly told,
And they together read

The little boy's short note, and saw
What he therein had said.

The touching words affected both
So very much indeed,

The minister permission craved
The letter he might read.

That evening, at a meeting large,
His way he there did wend;
A missionary meeting 'twas,
And many did attend.

Thither within his hand he took
The letter to him shown,
And to that large assembly made
Its touching history known.

66

Oh, if that little boy I knew !"
A lady present cried,

"For him, his mother, sisters too,
I gladly would provide."

Two listeners were sitting there,
The mother and the boy,
And, when he heard the lady speak,
Oh, who can tell his joy.

His mother nothing knew, and felt
Amazement mixed with fear;
But quick the little boy sprang up,
And cried, "Please ma'am, I'm here!"

The lady did as she had said,
To school he went again;

That Jesus had received his note,
And answered it, was plain.