A Gypsy Boy

Into a tent where a gypsy boy lay,
Dying alone at the close of the day,
News of salvation we carried; said he,
"Nobody ever has told it to me."

Tell it again, tell it again -
salvation`s story repeat o`ver and o`ver,
Till none can say of children of men:
Nobody ever has told it before.


Did He so love me, a poor gypsy boy,
And send unto me glad tidings of joy?
Need I not perish, my hand will He hold?
Nodody ever the story has told.

Bending we caught the last words of his breath
Just as he entered the valley of death:
"God sent His Son; whosoever said He;
Then I am sure that He sent Him for me."

Smiling he said as his last sigh was spent,
"I am so glad that for me He was sent,"
Whispered, while low sank the sun in the west,
"Lord, I believe, tell it now to the rest."

Mary B.C. Slade

My friend, the Savoiur calls, will you come? Receive Him now and experience His words,
"He that believth on the Son hath everlasting life". John ch3 v 36