"Jesus loves me—this I know,
For the Bible tells me so:
Little ones to him belong,—
They are weak, but he is strong.
"Jesus loves me,—he who died
Heaven's gate to open wide;
He will wash away my sin,
Let his little child come in.
"Jesus loves me—loves me still,
Though I'm very weak and ill;
From his shining throne on high
Comes to watch me where I lie.
"Jesus loves me,—he will stay
Close beside me all the way.
Then his little child will take
Up to heaven for his dear sake."
There were a few silent turns taken after that, and then Mr. Linden came back to the rocking-chair, and told Faith in a sort of bright cheerful way—meant for her as well as the child—that Johnny wanted her to brush his hair and give him something to eat. Which Johnny enforced with one of his quiet smiles. Faith sprang to do it, and both offices were performed with hands of tenderness and eyes of love, with how much inner trembling of heart neither eyes nor hands told. Then, after all that was done, Faith stood by the table and began to swallow coffee and bread on her own account, somewhat eagerly. Mr. Linden watched her, with grave eyes.
"Now you must go and lie down," he said.
"Not at all!" Faith said with a smile at him. "I hadn't time—or didn't take time—to eat my breakfast before I came away from home—that is all. It is you who ought to do that, Endy,"—she added gently.
She put away the things, cleared the table, made up the fire, and smoothed the bed, ready for Johnny when he should want it; and then she came and sat down.
"Won't you go?" she said softly.
"I would rather stay here."