Child, raise a fervent prayer to heav'n,
That this day's sin may be forgiv'n,
Ere you sink to sweet repose,
While evening's shadows round you close.

The golden sun has sunk to rest,
Behind the curtains of the west,
And rosy twilight, soft and mild,
Brings gentle slumber to my child.

The busy, bustling cares of day,
In noise and tumult pass'd away;
Solemn night, so still and deep,
Bids nature's wearied children sleep.

Soft is the pillow of your rest,--
With health and friends, and comforts blest;
Then raise a fervent prayer to heav'n,
That ev'ry sin may be forgiv'n.

The child began, "Father forgive
My many sins, and bid me live:
May I be humble, meek and mild,
Like Jesus, when a little child.

"O may this feeble soul of mine,
Be join'd to Christ, the living vine;
May I ever bow the knee,
And 'Abba, Father,' cry, to thee.

"Father, in heaven, hear my prayer,
And make a little child thy care,
Jesus has said, so let it be,
'Suffer such to come to me.'

"But, mother, why's my pulse so still?
Mother, why is the air so chill?
And, mother, why are angels fair
Hov'ring o'er me, in the air?

"Mother, with thee I cannot stay,--
Those angels beckon me away;
I feel this night, so still, so deep,
Will bring to me a lasting sleep."

"My child, my child, can it be so?
Can I let my darling go?
Oh, yes--I see it plainly now,--
'Tis death's cold hand upon thy brow.

"Come, lay thy icy cheek to mine,--
I'd kiss thee once, ere I resign
To icy death, thy lovely form,
To feed the gnawing coffin worm.

"Corruption, nor the coffin worm,
Can thy triumphant soul deform;
That, enraptur'd, shall arise,
To dwell with Christ, beyond the skies.

"'Tis the dear Saviour bids thee come,--
His angels wait to bear thee home;
Loudly, he's saying now to thee,--
'Suffer such to come to me.'"

"Mother, all things are pure and bright;--
I see them by a heavenly light,
And beaming in the distance far,
I see the glorious morning Star.

"Farewell, mother," but the name
Died on her lips--life's quiv'ring flame
Had just expir'd; that deathless soul
Had burst its chains, and pass'd the goal.

The mother meekly knelt in prayer,--
She felt that God's own hand was there,
Then wip'd one pearly tear away,
And rose to shroud her lifeless clay.

So sweet a smile the lips still wreath'd,
It seemed life through their parting breath'd,
So gently death had o'er her crept,
That all who gaz'd might deem she slept.

The mother watch'd, with earnest eye,
Her youngest Child before her lie,
Then meekly glancing up to heaven,
"Father, she was not lent, but given.

"Father, thou hast in mercy spoken,--
A tender tie from earth is broken,
But that same tie is link'd to heaven,
And stronger faith and hope are given."