My Angel boy, thou'rt nearing fast 
The end of thy brief race; 
Already death's dark wing hath cast 
Its shadow o'er thy face. 

Must thy ethereal spirit seek 
So soon its native sky? 
Still paler grows thy beauteous cheek 
I cannot see thee die, 

My angel boy, my angel boy, I cannot see thee die. 

Thou, only tie that binds my soul 
To earth and bids me live, 
Thou, only thought that comfort now, 
Or future hope can give, 

Thou, sole pride of my widowed heart, 
Thou joyous beam to mine eye, 
Ah! must thou from thy mother part? 
I cannot see thee die, 

My angel boy, my angel boy, I cannot see thee die. 

I meekly bow before thy throne, 
Oh! God, nor dare repine; 
For thou hast but recalled thine own, 
H is no longer mine. 

Oh! If it be thy gracious will, 
We soon shall meet on high, 
For me there's hope, there's comfort still: 
The spirit cannot die, 

My angel boy, my angel boy, Thy spirit cannot die.