WHEN my good-nights and prayers are said
And I am safe tucked up in bed,
I know my guardian angel stands
And holds my soul between his hands.
I cannot see his wings of light
Because I keep my eyes shut tight,
For, if I open them, I know
My pretty angel has to go.
But through the darkness I can hear
His white wings rustling very near;
I know it is his darling wings,
Not Mother folding up my things!
