* * * * *
SAVED.
Crouching in the twilight-gray,
Like a hunted thing at bay,
In his brain one thought is rife:
Why not end the bootless strife?
Who in God's wide world would weep,
Should he brave death's dreamless sleep?
Hark! a child's voice, soft and clear,
Pulsing through the gloaming drear;
And the word the singer brings
Like a new evangel rings;
"Jesus loves me! this I know,"
Swift his thoughts to childhood go.
Memories of a mother's face
Bending to her boy's embrace,
And the boy at eventide
Kneeling by the mother's side,
Like "sweet visions of the night"
Fill the lonesome place with light,
While the singer's tender trill—
"Jesus loves me! loves me still"—
Hovers in the dreamlit air
Like an answer to the prayer.
Offered in those happy days
When he walked in sinless ways.
"Jesus loves me!" Can it be
His, this benedicite?
Is there One who knows and cares?
One who all his sorrow shares?
"Jesus loves me!" While the song
Guileless lips with joy prolong,
Lo! a soul has ceased its strife,
Reconciled to God and life.