

Every evening, the Little Lamp glowed on the stone path. 'Shine, little friend,' said The Villagers, smiling. The Child waved, skipping past. 'Your light helps me,' she whispered. The Lamp sparkled happily.

Night after night, the Lamp watched footprints find home. 'Thank you,' said The Villagers. The Child added, 'I feel brave with you.' The Lamp thought, I am small, but useful, and glowed.

One windy evening, the Little Lamp felt weary. 'Does anyone notice?' it wondered, flickering. The Villagers hurried past, distracted. The Lamp dimmed, unsure. 'Maybe my light doesn’t matter,' it sighed, growing faint.

Far down the path, the Child shivered. 'It’s darker tonight,' she said softly. She hugged herself and prayed, 'Jesus, please help.' She looked toward the Lamp. 'I wish you’d shine again.'

The Little Lamp listened to the quiet. A gentle memory warmed its wick: 'Your light comes from the Master.' 'Master,' it whispered, 'did I forget?' The wind answered only with sighs.

It bowed its tiny flame. 'Jesus, please fill me again,' the Lamp prayed. The Child waited, whispering, 'I trust You.' The Villagers paused, noticing. 'Little friend, don’t give up now,' he encouraged.

Footsteps approached softly. The Master arrived with kind eyes and gentle hands. 'I see you,' He said. The Child gasped with hope. The Lamp fluttered, 'Master, my oil is low.'

The Master uncorked fragrant oil and gently cleaned the glass. 'I haven’t forgotten you,' He promised. He filled the Lamp. Warmth rushed bright. The Villagers smiled, 'Look! Light for our steps!'

The Lamp gleamed, steady and strong. The Child laughed, 'Thank You, Jesus!' She took The Villagers’ hand. 'Come, let’s go home,' he said. The Master nodded, joy shining in His face.

'Your light comes from Me,' the Master taught gently. 'When you’re tired, ask, and I will fill you.' The Lamp listened. 'I’ll share Your brightness,' it promised. The Child whispered, 'I will too.'

Night followed night. The Lamp welcomed footsteps with warm glow. The Villagers said, 'God is good.' The Child waved, 'His light helps me be brave.' The Master’s love felt near to all.

On a quiet evening, the Lamp hummed bright. 'Thank You, Master,' it sang. 'When I’m weary, I’ll ask Jesus.' The Child and The Villagers nodded. The path glowed with shared, joyful light.