“How often when my weary head
Is on my pillow laid,
I think of judgment, death and hell,
And I am so afraid!
“And when I read God’s sacred Word,
It tells me I am vile;
And pondering o’er the solemn words,
I tremble all the while.
“O, that I some deliverance knew,
Or hiding-place could find,
O, that some relief would come,
To ease my troubled mind!”
“Is such thy cry? then list, dear child,
To One who loves thy soul;
Who yielded up His precious life
To make the wounded whole.
“Yes, list to Jesus; He who was,
On earth the children’s Friend;
And who in heaven the risen One,
Can to an infant bend.
“He sweetly says, ‘Believe on Me,
Trust My atoning blood,
Then thou shalt saved and happy be,
A ransomed child of God.’”
ML 06/24/1917