My mother led me in this simple prayer
When I was just a lad, with tousled hair.
She knelt beside me, soft and kind,
And helped me speak with heart and mind:

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

Those words were seeds, so gently sown,
That bloomed in years as I had grown.
Through battles fought and joys well earned,
To God I turned, in peace or burned.

I prayed through storms, both fierce and wide,
With trembling lips or lifted pride.
Some prayers were bold, some whispers low,
But He was there through all I’d know.

And now, as twilight veils the day,
And earthly light begins to fade,
The time has come—He calls me near,
And all that’s left is trust, not fear.

I mouth the words I’ve always known,
No grander speech, no prideful tone:

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

So take me, Lord, in arms of grace
To heaven’s rest, to love’s embrace.
A child once more, I close my eyes,
And rise with You beyond the skies.

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop