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