A lad of seventeen years lay dying in a Dublin hospital. He was constantly visited by a lady, who, going in one day, saw that the end was drawing near. She bent over the dying boy and said, “Is the Lord Jesus with you? Are you thinking of Him?” Looking up, while a bright smile passed over his worn face, the boy whispered, “I can’t always think of Him because of the pain; but when I am not thinking of Him, He thinks of me.”