Tell Me of the Angels, Mother
(published by Horace Waters, N.Y., 1863)
Tell me of the angels, mother,
And the radiant land,
Where my gently little brother
Joined their happy band;
Oh! I seem to hear their voices
When the night draws near,
And my gladdened soul rejoices
At their accents clear.
Tell me of the angels, mother,
When God bids us come
Shall we dwell with one another
In their starry home;
Shall we join the tuneful chorus
Far from all alarms,
With no gloomy shadows o’er us
In the Saviour’s arms.
Tell me of the angels, mother,
Crowned with chaplets bright,
Singing hymns that sorrow smother
On their wings of light;
Oh! I long to see them, mother,
And I long to fly
To my dear departed brother
In the azure sky.