|“‘Tis true.” Said little Christopher,
“You may be sure the Angel’s come,
She never gave us bread before.
No, not the value of a crumb.”
The next day, and the next to that,
The promise of the King was kept,
And every night that Angel bright.
Stood by, to guard them as they slept.
On Wednesday the people came,
And took the woman’s corpse away;
Two little mourners walked behind,
And saw the grave wherein it lay.
Fast fell the tears upon their cheeks,
When little Christy raised his eyes,
And said, “Oh, mother! how I wish
I was with you above the skies.”
|‘Twas but the thought passed through his mind,
When soft a whisper seemed to come –
“Be patient, little Christopher,
You are not very far from home.”
The Minister said, “Dust to dust;”
And then the poor boys left the place –
Two friendless boys in London town;
Oh! was not theirs a hapless case!
They wandered up and down the streets,
And then went home to sleep once more,
And in the morning left the room,
And took the key and locked the door.
They found the landlord at his house,
And said, “Please, sir, our mother’s dead;
She could not pay up all the rent,
And we have got to earn our bread.