"Now I lay," -- repeat it, darling. "Lay me," lisped the tiny lips Of my daughter, kneeling, bending O'er her folded finger-tips. "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, 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, "Mamma, 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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HOW THEY GO ON by JAMES GALVIN FOR WALT WHITMAN by DAVID IGNATOW PROVING by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |