When Daddy prays, the house gets still;
His voice is slow and deep.
We shut our eyes; the clock ticks loud.
So quiet we must keep.
When Daddy prays, he doesn’t use
Those words the preacher does.
He prays for lots of different things,
But mostly he prays for us.
His prayer gets awful long sometimes,
And hard to understand.
So I just wiggle up close
And let him hold my hand.
I can’t remember all of it;
I’m little yet, you see.
But there’s one thing I can’t forget:
My Daddy Prays For Me.