Once a child in sorrow,
Weeping very sore,
Went into his closet,
Shutting to the door.
Where no eye was watching,
Save the eye above,
Which is never weary,
Watching us in love.
He had heard that Jesus,
Up in heaven so high,
Always stooped to listen,
To the feeble cry.
“I am very naughty,
And deserve the rod,
And I often tremble
When I think of God.
I am very sorry—
Thou art very good—
Kind and loving Jesus,
Wash me in Thy blood.
Thus the little fellow,
Kneeling down to pray,
Told his griefs to Jesus
In his simple way.
And the loving Jesus
Saw the falling tear;
Saw the wounded spirit,
Full of grief and fear,
And in words of comfort,
Spake He to the boy,
In a still, small whisper,
Giving peace and joy.
Banishing his sorrow,
Soothing his distress,
Little tiny children,
Jesus loves to bless.
He had in the Bible
Read about, the grace
Of the lowly Jesus,
Who had left His place
On the throne of glory,
Far above the sky,
And in love to sinners
Came down here to die;
But that He had risen,
And in glory lives,
And to poor dead sinners,
Life eternal gives.
Through the love of Jesus,
And the tidings heard;
He was saved and happy,
Resting on His word.
When he grew to manhood,
Often pressed by care,
Much he loved to ponder
On that little prayer,
When he in his closet,
Kneeling down to pray,
Told his griefs to Jesus
In his simple way.
ML 12/08/1946