With breaking heart, a fond mother is pacing the room, seeking to soothe the pient litle sufferer she holds in her arms, a lovely boy of five summers.
As she gazes into the dear face, she longs to hear from those sweet lips the Name of Him who is soon to fold His tender lamb to His own loving bosom.
“Who loves my darling better than mother?” she softly asked.
The tired lips slowly open, and cleay utter one word— “Jesus.” The one precious Name, which is above every name.
Do you know, dear children, the power of that saving Name? You are not too young to be saved.
A little child of seven,
Or even three or four,
May learn the way to heaven,
Through Christ, the open door.
ML 12/09/1945