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The Angel Bell
How I loved that silver bell My mother gave to me. She hung it by my crib And on the Christmas tree. She said it was my angel bell And when it tinkled In the gentleness of breeze, I should give thanks And drop to my knees. For it was my own angel Whispering, she'd watch over me. Heaven called mother one sad day. Angels in chorus carried her gently away. Still as years pass and I lay in bed, That little angel bell by my head, With nary a breeze, Sometimes a soft tinkle I hear, And drop to my knees. For 'tis an angel whispering Your mother is watching over thee. |