Monday, February 09, 2004

The Unfinished Prayer

"Now I lay me -- say it, darling,"
   "Lay me," lisped the tiny lips
Of my daughter, kneeling, bending,
   O'er her folded finger tips.

"Down to sleep." "To s'eep," she murmured;
   And the curly head bent low.
"I pray the Lord," I gently added --
   "You can say it all, I know."

"P'ay de Lord," the words came faintly --
   Fainter still, "my soul to teep."
Then the tired head fairly nodded,
   And my child was fast asleep.

But the dewy eyes half opened
   When I clasped her to my breast,
And the dear voice gently whispered --
   "Mamma, God knows all de yest."

Oh! the trusting, sweet confiding
   Of the child-heart! Would that I
Thus might trust my Heavenly Father,
   He who hears my feeblest cry!

            ~ Thomas H. Ayers

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