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!”
Chorus
Tell it again! Tell it
again!
Salvation’s story repeat
o’er and o’er
Till none can say of the
children of men,
“Nobody ever has told me
before!”
“Did He so love me, a poor
little boy?
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 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!”