"Now I lay" - "Repeat it, darling."
"Lay me," lisped the tiny lips
of my daughter kneeling,
bending o'er her folded fingertips.
"Down to sleep." - "To sleep" she murmured
and the curly head bent low.
- "I pray the Lord," I gently added,
"You can say it all, I know"
"Pray the Lord"- the sound came faintly, then fainter still - "My soul to keep."
Then the tired head fairly nodded
and the child was fast asleep.
But the dewy eyes, half opened
when I clasped her to my breast,
and the dear voice softly whispered
- "Mama, God knows all the rest"
Oh the trusting, sweet confiding
of the child heart.
Would that I thus might
trust my Heavenly Father,
He who hears my feeblest cry.