Richard Wilton (1827–1903)

BRIGHT Dorothy, with eyes of blue,

And serious Dickie, brave as fair,

Crossing to Church you oft may view

When no one but myself is there:

First to the belfry they repair,

And, while to the long ropes they cling,

And make believe to call to prayer,

For angels’ ears the bells they ring.

Next, seated gravely in a pew

A pulpit homily they share,

Meet for my little flock of two,

Pointed and plain, as they can bear:

Then venture up the pulpit stair,

Pray at the desk or gaily sing:

O sweet child-life, without a care—

For angels’ ears the bells they ring.

Dear little ones, the early dew

Of holy infancy they wear,

And lift to Heaven a face as true

As flowers that breathe the morning air

Whate’er they do, where’er they fare,

They can command an angel’s wing:

Their voices have a music rare,—

For angels’ ears the bells they ring.

O parents, of your charge beware;

Their angels stand before the King;

In work, play, sleep, and everywhere

For angels’ ears the bells they ring.