THE CHILDS WISH.
Oh! I long to lie, dear mother, on the cool and fragrant grass,
With the calm, blue sky above my head and the shadowy clouds that puss,
And I want the bright, bright sunshine all round about my head,
I'll close my eyes and God will think your little boy is dead.
Then Christ will send an angel to take me up to him;
He will bear me slow and steadily far through the ether dim;
He will gently, gently lead me close by the Savior's side,
And when I'm sure that I'm in heaven, my eyes I'll open wide.
Then I'll look among the angels that stand around the throne
Till I find my sister Mary, for I know she must be one;
And when I find her, mother, I'll go away alone:
I'll tell her how we've mourned for her all the while that she's been gone.
Oh! I should be delighted to hear her speak again,
For I know she'll not return to us, to ask her would be vain;
So I'll put my arms around her and look into her eyes;
I'll remember all I say to her and tell her sweet replies.
And then I'll ask the angel to take me back to you;
he will bear me slow and steadily far through the ether blue,
And you'll only think, dear mother, that I've been out to play.
And have gone to sleep beneath the tree this sultry summer day.