A little lad of some seven summers lay very ill. He suffered no pain, but his life was slowly ebbing away. A Christian gentleman visited him, and found that he was not quite at ease in prospect of death. He knew that Jesus was his Saviour, yet he shivered at the dark and dread passage through which he must go into his Saviour’s presence.
In parting the gentleman said, “Now I will give you a simple text to rest upon, one which has supported many a soul in the dying hour. The text,” said he, “has five words, and that is one word for each finger; ‘The―Lord―is―my―Shepherd.’” The boy counted them over on the lingers of his left hand, and then holding the fourth, he looked up with a happy smile, and said, “That’s the best!”
“Which?” inquired his visitor.
“Oh, the ‘my,’” he exclaimed.
Next day the servant of God called again, but the little spirit had flown.
“Come in, sir, and see him, he has only just gone,” said the weeping mother, “he died so happy, and I know why; it was the text you gave him. He kept holding one of his dear little fingers and saying, ‘That’s the best.’”
She took the gentleman in, and there lay the poor little body, with the face so white and yet peaceful. “See!” whispered the mother. The hands were crossed, and on the fourth knuckle of the left hand there still rested a finger of the right.
Dear boy and girl, can you say it? Is Jesus your Shepherd? He gave His life for His sheep. Are you one of them? Can you say, “The Lord is my Shepherd,” and putting your finger on the “my,” look up and add, “That’s the best”?