On why that story makes me cry

I posted a short story by Hans Christian Andersen before (see post below). I told you that it always makes me cry. I have been thinking about why this is and have decided to write about it, although it seems very personal. I know that the plot isn't what gets me. The other day, I thought of this story and went looking for my collected Hans Christian Andersen, and wondered to myself how that story could have made me cry before. I figured that I had grown less sentimental over time. However, when I found the book and read the story, I began to cry again.
I think that the main reason stems from this: I have been told over and over that Jesus loves me. I have been told that, however much I love my husband or my son or anyone else, Jesus loves me infinitely more. I believe this, but it hardly ever really hits home. If this idea were to truly hit home, it should knock me down, slap me in the face, bring-me-to-my-knees. (Please insert dramatic pause).
I am a bit of a sucker for poetic prose, and the way this story uses language to bring this message closer to home really gets to me. It may not quite knock me to my knees, but it certainly makes me reach out to grab hold of something. I imagine that if I knew Danish, the effect of the original would be even stronger.