LITTLE JOHNNIE.
Shall I vex your patience, Johnnie,
If I write again?
Would you rather I should leave you
Brooding o'er your pain?
Does your little heart grow tired
Of the outside noise?
Will you never tell your sorrows?
Must you hide your joys?
Then I'll go to Jesus, Johnnie—
Go to Him, and say—
"There's a weary child, Lord Jesus,
Needs Thy love to-day.
"Listen to his father's praying;
See his mother's tears;
Speak, oh, speak to little Johnnie!
Speak, and hush our fears.
"He was born a wretched sinner;
Does he know it, Lord?
Thou hast promises for sinners,
In Thy precious Word.
"Speak, oh, speak to little Johnnie,
That our aching hearts
May be comforted about him
When his soul departs.
"We have told him of Thy mercy,
Told him of Thy wrath;
Told him of the untold terrors
Of the second death.
"But the voice that wakes an echo
In the silent one,
And the hand that opens heaven,
Jesus, are Thine own.
"Lord, we cannot help repeating,
Speak to him to-day;
Hope, nor prayer, nor mercy cometh
To the mouldering clay.
"Now the heart and flesh are failing,
Now the need is true,
Hell beneath, and heaven above him,
Stoop, Lord, lift him through."
I have said all this to Jesus,
Johnnie dear, for you;
Tell your mother if He answers;
She is praying too.
Oh, if you but hear Him whisper,
"Guilty sinner, come!"
Break away to Jesus, Johnnie;
He will take you home.
M. A. Chaplin.
Galleywood, Chelmsford.