Tell me of the angels, mother, And the radiant land Where my gentle little brother Joined their happy band; Oh! I seem to hear their voices When the night draws near, And my gladdened soul rejoices At their accents clear. Tell em of the angels, mother, When God bids us come Shall we dwell with one another In their starry home; Shall we join the tuneful chorus Far from all alarms, With no gloomy shadows o'er us In the Saviour's arms. Tell em of the angels, mother, Crowned with chaplets bright, Singing hymns that sorrow smother On their wings of light; Oh! I long to see them, mother, And I long to fly To my dear departed brother In the azure sky.
- by Stephen Collins Foster (1826 - 1864), "Tell me of the angels, mother" [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
- by Stephen Collins Foster (1826 - 1864), "Tell me of the angels, mother", published 1863. [voice and piano] [text verified 1 time]
Researcher for this text: Laura Prichard [Guest Editor]
This text was added to the website: 2015-12-26
Line count: 24
Word count: 122