'Yes, mother,' said Poppy; 'here's one on the table.' The poor woman turned over the leaves with trembling fingers, for she was very weak and tired.
'Poppy, dear,' she said, when she had found the place, 'read this hymn to grandmother.'
And Poppy read:
'Jesus, I will trust Thee, trust Thee with my soul!
Guilty, lost, and helpless, Thou canst make me whole.
There is none in heaven or on earth like Thee;
Thou hast died for sinners—therefore, Lord, for me.
Jesus, I do trust Thee, trust without a doubt,
Whosoever cometh Thou wilt not cast out:
Faithful is Thy promise, precious isThy blood—
These my soul's salvation, Thou my Saviour God!'
'Oh, grandmother, and oh, Poppy,' she said, when the child had finished reading, 'trust your soul to Jesus to-night.'
'Well, my dear, I will,' said poor old grandmother, wiping her eyes.
'And you, my own little Poppy?'
'Yes, dear mother,' said the child; 'I won't forget.'