LITTLE JOHNNIE.

Shall I vex your patience, Johnnie, If I write again? Would you rather I should leave you Brooding o'er your pain? Does your little heart grow tired Of the outside noise? Will you never tell your sorrows? Must you hide your joys? Then I'll go to Jesus, Johnnie— Go to Him, and say— "There's a weary child, Lord Jesus, Needs Thy love to-day. "Listen to his father's praying; See his mother's tears; Speak, oh, speak to little Johnnie! Speak, and hush our fears. "He was born a wretched sinner; Does he know it, Lord? Thou hast promises for sinners, In Thy precious Word. "Speak, oh, speak to little Johnnie, That our aching hearts May be comforted about him When his soul departs. "We have told him of Thy mercy, Told him of Thy wrath; Told him of the untold terrors Of the second death. "But the voice that wakes an echo In the silent one, And the hand that opens heaven, Jesus, are Thine own. "Lord, we cannot help repeating, Speak to him to-day; Hope, nor prayer, nor mercy cometh To the mouldering clay. "Now the heart and flesh are failing, Now the need is true, Hell beneath, and heaven above him, Stoop, Lord, lift him through." I have said all this to Jesus, Johnnie dear, for you; Tell your mother if He answers; She is praying too. Oh, if you but hear Him whisper, "Guilty sinner, come!" Break away to Jesus, Johnnie; He will take you home. M. A. Chaplin. Galleywood, Chelmsford.