A LITTLE boy, eight years of age. was bitten by a mad dog. His father was dead, and they were poor, but the dear little fellow knew Jesus as His Saviour and that made him happy. He was in great pain, yet not a murmur escaped his lips. At the foot of the bed stood the doctor, who, in a whisper, said to the anxious mother, “I fear your son cannot live much longer.”
Faintly as he whispered, the poor child heard the words, and said, “I am glad of it; I am glad to hear it.”
“Why, my little man?” asked the doctor.
With a peaceful smile, the dear boy answered, “Because I am going home.” For sometime he talked about the mansions Jesus had gone to prepare for those who love Him; and then bidding his friends goodbye, he fell asleep in Jesus—he went home.—Glad Tidings.
ML 09/17/1899