Does Jesus live at your house?

“Does Jesus live at your house?”
I heard a child once ask:
Her little brow was furrowed
As she struggled with a task.

I saw her eyes were shadowed,
Her face marked with a tear;
The voice a wee bit wistful
For the answer she might hear.

“He used to live at our house,
With Mamma—Daddy, too.
But now He’s gone away somewhere.
I don’t know what to do;

For Daddy’s not the same today,
And Mamma laughs no more.
They never bother much with me;
They say I’m just a bore.

“It didn’t used to be this way
With Jesus in our home,
For every night my daddy came,
When all my curls were combed,
To help me say my bedtime prayer
(And Mamma helped me, too);
And they’d smile and tuck me in,
But now—they never do.

“Could you tell me where Jesus is,
For everything seems black?
We want Him in our house again;
We want Him to come back.
And when He comes we’ll keep Him,
For we truly need Him so—
If Jesus lives at your house,
Oh, don’t ever let Him go!”

The child then turned and left me
While I pursued my way
And thought of many home fires
That could be bright today.
Does Jesus live at your house?
How much these words portend.
Yea! On this question’s answer
Our hopes—our all—depend.

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