My little Bible!—mother’s gift,
You’re very dear indeed;
I love between your purple lids
My Saviour’s words to read;
And long before I could do so,
I now remember well
The pretty stories out of it
Dear father used to tell.
How Jesus, once a baby, sat
Upon His mother’s knee,
Before He cured the lame and blind,
Or walked upon the sea.
And he would speak of Bethany,
Where two sweet sisters lived,
And of the trembling woman who
A cure from Christ received.
Then, though I was a little boy,
O how I wished that He
Who did so sweetly talk to them,
Would show Himself to me!
It made me long to read His book,
So o’er the page I bent;
And till I could make out the words,
I never was content.
May I its meaning every day
Still better understand.
As God has fit me by His grace
To dwell at His right hand,
I now will try to send His word
Where it has not been given;
For it is such a pleasant thing
To send such news of heaven.
ML 03/09/1924