230 Grandma’s Prayer

I PRAY that, risen from the dead,

I may in glory stand—

A crown, perhaps, upon my head,

But a needle in my hand.

I ’ve never learned to sing or play,

So let no harp be mine;

From birth unto my dying day,

Plain sewing ’s been my line.

Therefore, accustomed to the end

To plying useful stitches,

I ’ll be content if asked to mend

The little angels’ breeches.