“now I lay,”—repeat it, darling.
  “Lay me,” lisped the tiny lips
Of my daughter, kneeling, bending
  O’er her folded finger-tips.

“Down to sleep”—“To sleep,” she murmured,
  And the curly head bent low;
“I pray the Lord,” I gently added;
  “You can say it all, I know.”

“Pray the Lord”—the sound came faintly,
  Fainter...