She prays for father, mother dear,
To Him with thunder shod,
She prays for every falling tear
In the holy church of God.
For all good men now fallen ill,
For merry men that weep,
For holiest teachers of His will,
And common men that sleep.
The sunlight flickering on the pews,
The sunlight in the air,
The flies that dance in threes, in twos,
They seem to join her prayer—
Her prayer for father, mother dear,
To Him with thunder shod,
A prayer for every falling tear
In the holy church of God.