A little child lay on his bed And drew a heavy breath, And moaning raised his weary head, Damp with the dews of Death; Upon his bed the sunset cast The broad and yellow ray, That oft in pleasant evenings past Had warned him from his play; He clasped his Mother's hand and sighed And to his lip arose A little prayer he learnt beside Her knee at even's close. And thus he prayed, ere darkness stole Upon the silence deep, The Blessed One to keep his soul, And guard him in his sleep. "Oh! gentle Jesus, meek and mild, "Look down on me, a little child; "Oh! pity my simplicity, "And grant me grace to come to Thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HIS WIFE ON THE 16TH ANNIVERSARY OF HER WEDDING DAY, WITH A RING by SAMUEL BISHOP THE GOOD SHEPHERD by FELIX LOPE DE VEGA CARPIO TEARS by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE SONG OF THE BANNER AT DAY-BREAK by WALT WHITMAN REFUGE by WILLIAM HERVEY ALLEN JR. PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 19. AL-FATTA'H by EDWIN ARNOLD RAIN ON FALL NIGHTS by MILDRED TELFORD BARNWELL |