Into the 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
Salvation’s story repeat o’er and o’er.
Till none can say of the children of
“Nobody ever has told me before.”
“Did He so love me, a poor little
Send unto me the good tidings of joy?
Need I not perish? My hand will He hold?
Nobody ever the story has told!”
Bending we caught the last words of
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 he
“I am so glad that for me He was sent!”
Whispered, while low sunk the sun in the
“Lord, I believe, tell it now to the