When I am weary with sickness and pain,
When even mother’s kind help is in vain,
Better and nearer than any could be
Jesus, my Savior, is thinking of me.
Yes, He is watching me all the long night,
Darkness to Him is the same as the light;
And when the voices I love are not near,
Deep in my heart His own words I can hear.
Often He tells how He hung on the tree,
Dying for sinners—yes, dying for me;
And that He’s coming again very soon,
Morning or evening, at midnight or noon.
ML-10/10/1920