PH
Y
Yours
My little contribution,
With ready heart and hand,
I gave, to send the Word of God
To distant heathen land :
And ere I went to rest that night,
I kneeled to God in prayer,
That he would change my gift to light
For souls in darkness there.
When I was lost in slumber,
There seemed just o'er my bed,
An angel child, with beaming brow
And shining wings out-spread ;
And stainless seemed the robe to flow
About that lovely one,
As lies a glowing sheet of snow
Beneath the morning sun.
A touch of golden glory
Was on her wavy hair ;
Her face, with rose-tint on the cheek.
Was like the lily fair.
And oh ! she sang a holy song,
Which angels only know
To sound in their adoring throng ;
And never learnt below !
She told a hasty story
About her life on earth,
When here a little dark Hindoor
Of distant Indian birth ;
That once her parents were of those
Who God in Ganges deem,
Where oft her babe the mother throws,
An offering, on the stream :..
But when the missions taught them
To read the WORD, and pray
To God in Heaven, through Jesus' name,
Their gods were cast away ;
That e'er she died, she loved to sing
How Christ for her could die :
And then he gave her spirit wing-
To soar to him on high.
I drew iny breath, to ask her
About the joys above ;
When silently she disappeared,
With parting smile of love !
Awaking then, I prayed for more
That I might send away
To shed upon some heathen shore
The beams of gospel day.
kidsworldfun
With ready heart and hand,
I gave, to send the Word of God
To distant heathen land :
And ere I went to rest that night,
I kneeled to God in prayer,
That he would change my gift to light
For souls in darkness there.
When I was lost in slumber,
There seemed just o'er my bed,
An angel child, with beaming brow
And shining wings out-spread ;
And stainless seemed the robe to flow
About that lovely one,
As lies a glowing sheet of snow
Beneath the morning sun.
A touch of golden glory
Was on her wavy hair ;
Her face, with rose-tint on the cheek.
Was like the lily fair.
And oh ! she sang a holy song,
Which angels only know
To sound in their adoring throng ;
And never learnt below !
She told a hasty story
About her life on earth,
When here a little dark Hindoor
Of distant Indian birth ;
That once her parents were of those
Who God in Ganges deem,
Where oft her babe the mother throws,
An offering, on the stream :..
But when the missions taught them
To read the WORD, and pray
To God in Heaven, through Jesus' name,
Their gods were cast away ;
That e'er she died, she loved to sing
How Christ for her could die :
And then he gave her spirit wing-
To soar to him on high.
I drew iny breath, to ask her
About the joys above ;
When silently she disappeared,
With parting smile of love !
Awaking then, I prayed for more
That I might send away
To shed upon some heathen shore
The beams of gospel day.
kidsworldfun