A little boy beside his bed
Was kneeling down in prayer;
Upon the quilt he laid his head.
But found no comfort there.
He seemed to struggle much with grief,
When, bursting out in tears,
His little heart soon found relief
And freedom from his fears.
His face, so often calm and mild,
With grief was all awry;
He cried, "Lord, I'm a naughty child—
Today I told a lie!
"My mother bade me something do—
My naughty will was such
I said I'd been—that was not true—
Which grieved my mother much.
"Thou knowest too, she made me smart.
The whipping made me cry;
It is not that which grieves my heart——
It is the wicked lie!
"Forgive me, Lord, for what I've done.
Make me a truthful boy;
Forgive me for Thine own dear Son"—
There was a gleam of joy
Upon that little tearful face;
No longer did he weep,
Rut, rising from the throne of grace,
He sweetly sank to sleep.
Messages of God’s Love 6/10/1934