“TELL me of Jesus, dear mamma,
One of those stories sweet;
Of how he cured the blind and lame,
And blessed the children when they came
And crowded round his feet.
“I long to hear again the tale
You’ve often told before,
How cruelly the Lord was slain,
And how the agony of pain
So patiently he bore.”
Her mother told how Jesus sees
His little lambs below,
And how he loves.to hear them pray,
And see them striving day by day
His blessed will to know.
“And Minnie, darling one,” she said,
“The Lord once more will come;
Then all the saints shall see his face,
And all who’ve known his love and grace
He’ll take forever home.”
“Will that be very soon, mamma?”
Dear little Minnie cried,
“I do so long the Lord to see,
And with the saints so bright to be,
Forever at his side.”
“I cannot tell you, Minnie love,
When that glad hour shall dawn,
It might be now this very day,
Or he his corning might delay
For many another morn.
“But he has told his people here
In readiness to be,
So that they may with joy arise,
And join their Saviour in the skies,
And there his glory see.”
“I’m glad you told me that, mamma,
For I’ll try to please the Lord;
I’ll pray to him his grace to give,
So that whilst here on earth I live
I may obey his word.”
Such were the words that Minnie spoke
Nor idle words were they;
She walked in meekness, faith, and love,
And her likeness to the Lord above
Grew greater day by day.
So brightly Minnie’s lamp beamed forth,
That some who saw it shine
Were brought to trust in Minnie’s Lord,
To love and keep his holy word,
And walk by light divine.
Thus time rolled on, and still the child
Serving the Lord was found,
And her joyful songs of praise were heard,
Like the tuneful warbling of a bird
Gladdening all around.
And ever at her work or play
She gazed toward the sky,
For she thought her Saviour she would see
In all his might and majesty
Descending from on high.
And if her little brother frowned,
Or to anger e’er gave way,
She softly whispered in his ear—
“You’ll not be watching, Willie dear,
If Jesus comes today.”
One day the merry voice was stilled,
And the small feet’s pattering sound,
And Willie missed his playmate, dear,
And all the house seemed dull and drear,
And hushed was all around.
For Minnie lay in her little room,
Struck down by fever’s hand,
And her mother sat beside her bed,
And softly nursed the aching head,
And the hot cheek gently fanned.
For many days was Minnie sick,
And the frail form weaker grew,
But the large eyes beamed with a lustrous light
As if they gazed on visions bright,
Hidden from others’ view.
And when she spoke her voice was low,
And her words seemed strange and wild,
Till one day as her mother prayed
That the Lord would heal her little maid,
She clasped her neck and smiled.
“I have been dreaming, ma,” she said,
“Oh, such a happy dream!
I saw the Lord upon his throne,
Bright as the sun his glory shone,
E’en now I see its gleam.
“I go to Jesus first, mamma,
Oh, do not weep so sore,
‘A little while,’ the Lord will come,
And raise your Minnie from the tomb,
And we shall part no more.
“For you shall join me on the cloud,
And together we’ll go home.
E’en now the golden harps I hear,
And songs of praises, sweet and clear —
Jesus, my Lord, I come!”
The mother pressed the little form,
But the soul had fled away;
For the Lord had called his ransomed one
To wait awhile before his throne
Till the dawning of “that day.”