My Mother’s Prayer (O’Kane)

As I wan­dered ’round the home­stead

Many a dear fa­mil­iar spot

Brought with­in my re­col­lect­ion

Scenes I’d seem­ing­ly forgot;

There

the or­chard—mea­dow

yon­der—

Here the deep

old fa­shioned well

With its old moss co­vered buck­et

Sent a thrill no tongue can tell.

Tho’ the house was held by strang­ers

All re­mained the same with­in;

Just as when a child I ram­bled

Up and down

and out and in;

To the gar­ret dark as­cend­ing—

Once a source of child­ish dread—

Peering thro’ the mis­ty cob­webs

Lo! I saw my trun­dle bed.

Quick I drew it from the rub­bish

Covered o’er with dust so long:

When

be­hold

I heard in fan­cy

Strains of one fa­mil­iar song.

Often sung by my dear mo­ther

To me in that trun­dle bed

Hush

my dear

lie still and slum­ber

Holy an­gels guard thy bed!

While I list­en to the mu­sic

Stealing on in gen­tle strain

I am car­ried back to childhood—

I am now a child again;

’Tis the hour of my re­tir­ing

At the dus­ky ev­en­tide;

Near my trun­dle bed I’m kneel­ing

As of yore

by mo­ther’s side.

Hands are on my head so lov­ing

As they were in child­hood’s days;

I

with wea­ry tones

am try­ing

To re­peat the words she says;

’Tis a pray­er in lang­uage simple

As a mo­ther’s lips can frame:

Fa­ther

Thou who art in Heav­en

Hallowed

ev­er

be Thy name.

Prayer is ov­er: to my pil­low

With a good night! kiss I creep

Scarcely wak­ing while I whis­per

Now I lay me down to sleep.

Then my mo­ther

o’er me bend­ing

Prays in ear­nest words

but mild:

Hear my pray­er

O heav’n­ly Fa­ther

Bless

oh

bless

my pre­cious child!

Yet I am but on­ly dream­ing:

Ne’er I’ll be a child again;

Many years has that dear mo­ther

In the qui­et church­yard lain;

But the me­mo­ry of her coun­sels

O’er my path a light has shed

Daily call­ing me to Heav­en

Even from my trun­dle bed.