1 Her dimpled hands were clasp'd in prayer,
Her blue eyes raised to heaven,
A holy light was on her brow,
She seem'd almost an angel now,
Yet pray'd to be forgiven.

2 She pray'd, that young and gentle child
We deem'd so free from sin,
And meekly sought a holy heart,
That she might act the Christian's part,
A purity within.

3 She pray'd, and tears like rain-drops fell,
Her bosom swell'd with grief:
Her childish sins she there confess'd.
Then laid her head on Jesus' breast,
And found a sweet relief.