Well, Bertie, now long are you going to live?” a friend asked a little boy.
“I do not know,” little Bertie slowly replied.
“Until you are an old man of a hundred years?” again asked the friend.
“I don’t think so,” said the tiny boy, gravely, as he raised his blue eyes to his questioner’s face.
“Indeed! are you very ill, that you think you may die soon?”
With a sweet little smile, but trembling lips, six-year-old Bertie replied: ‘‘O! you don’t understand one bit! I’m only waiting for Jesus, and He’ll come soon.” Dear little boy; with childish simplicity he went on with his play, but the words he uttered sank into the, heart of who one who had heard them,
“He’ll come soon,”
ML 02/23/1936