In Bengal, in India, there lived a boy who heard about God’s love in sending our Lord Jesus to die for him, that his sins might be forgiven. As he listened his eyes filled with tears and his heart grew big with gratitude, but in the Bengali language there is no word that has the meaning of our “Thank you.”
After the morning school, the missionary took a walk through the garden. There he saw the Bengali boy on his knees with his hands clasped and his lips moving. He was repeating one by one the letters of the alphabet. He wanted to thank God for His wonderful love, so he was saying the letters over and over again and asking God to take these letters and to make a word for Himself which could express the thanks which he could not say.
Praise the Saviour, ye who know Him.
Who can tell how much we owe Him?
Gladly let us render to Him
All we have and are.
ML-06/07/1964