Gettin' Religion

I ain't mncli on religión, nor prayer meeting beskle. I've never j'ined the churcli as yet, nor in't been sauctified ; But a tender sort of feellng draws me nearer to the .skies, Since I got a peep of heaven through a pair of trusting eyes. Time was wherj nothlng moved my tbougbts abo ve th i a sin ful world; No preacher's worüs could tstir me up, in wralh and fury hurled ; But lateiy Tve been drifting nigher to the better laúd. And the forcé that leads me upwards is a liltle dinipled haud. Seems like the bad tboughta sneak away, with that wee obap hard by ; And cuss words that were handy once won' come when be is nigh ; Fact is, it sort o' shames me to see tbose clear blue eyes Look at me (when I'm gettin' riled) Ín pity au' surprise. I don't know mueb of lienvën or angels an' Buch things, But BOmehow, wben I picture 'era, it ain't wkh liarpsand wlngs, But with yeller curls all tangled, aod tender eyes lliat shine, An' lips tbat's soft aud loving, like that littleeliap of mine. Then, when he folds bis dimpled hands in hls Httle bed at night, An' wbispers "Now I lay me," why, tbere's souaething ails my sight, An' my throat gits sort of husky when be blesses me, an' then I'm dead sure I've got re;igion by the time he says "Amen!"