Little Charlie sat at breakfast,
Tiny mite of four years old,
With his loving parents near him,
Safely sheltered from the cold;
All he needed set before him:
What a happy, happy boy!
Better still, he knew the Saviour
Who could fill his heart with joy.
Hark! Who is the man that’s knocking
Early at his father’s door?
Now it opens. Charlie listens.
Soon he knows the man is poor;
For he hears, in whining accents,
“Give me but one crust of bread.”
“Mother,” then spoke little Charlie,
With this crust he can be fed.
“And these words please write upon it,
‘Jesus died for you’;” he said,
Soon his mother fed the stranger,
Satisfied his mouth with bread.
Then she told of One who loved him,
One who shed His precious blood,
So that He might save the sinner;
He, Himself, the Bread of God.
ML 01/28/1945