When the twilight deep has fallen then my baby comes to me,
Robed in white, all dressed for Dreamland, and she bends low at my knee;
And her little hands are folded in a reverential way,
And two little eyes look upward as two little sweet lips say:
“Now I ‘ay me down to s’eep,
I p’ay the Lord my soul to teep.”
And I know the Father listens,
And it pleases Him, up there,
When my baby, dressed for dreamland,
Kneels to say her evening prayer.
There’s a silence in the shadows where the firelight softly plays,
And a dreamy calm comes o’er me when my baby kneels and prays;
All my doubting fancies leave me, and the trials of earth flee,
As I bow my head and listen to my baby’s plaintive plea:
“If I s’ood die before I wate,
I p’ay the Lord my soul to tate.”
And a holy hush steals o’er me
And pervades the evening air,
When my baby, dressed for Dreamland,
Kneels to say her evening prayer.
And I often sit and ponder, as I hear the sweet lips pray,
What would life on earth be to me should I miss that voice some day?
If perchance I felt no nestling, dimpled hand within my own,
As my baby knelt beside me, lisping in an undertone:
“Now I ‘ay me down to s’eep,
I p’ay the Lord my soul to teep.”
And I bless the God who gave her,
And her love with Him I share,
When my baby, dressed for Dreamland,
Kneels to say her evening prayer.
(Earl Alonzo Brininstool)
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