The angels are rocking my baby,

at the top of the golden stair.

No harm will ever befall him,

away in that city of fair.

I know he would be far better in Heaven,

but when angels took him away,

My heart was broken and lonely,

at the thought of him going to stay.

Sometimes in season of fancy,

I look through the blue curtain sky,

and picture my darling in Heaven,

with never a tear in his eye.

In patience I'll wait the dawning,

my babe has the tenderest of care,

for the angels are rocking our fair one,

at the top of the golden stair.

-Amy Jo Tharp-