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And many a babe had gone to rest,
And many a tender mothers breast
Still lull'd its darling care,
When in a nursery's quiet bound,
With fond affections circled round,
I heard an infant's prayer.
Yes, there it knelt,—its cherub face
Uprais'd with earnest air;
And well devotion's heaven-born grace
Became a brow so fair;
But seldom at our Father's throne
Such blest and happy child is known
So painfully to strive;
For long with tearful ardor fraught,
That supplicating lip besought,—
"Please God, let Lilly live,"
And still the imploring voice did flow
That little couch beside,
As if for "poor sick Lilly's" wo,
It could not be denied;
