Grandma's Prayer by Eugene Field — Read

I pray that, risen from the dead, / I may in glory stand -- / A crown, perhaps, upon my head, / But a needle in my hand.

I've never learned to sing or play, / So let no harp be mine; / From birth unto my dying day, / Plain sewing's been my line.

Therefore, accustomed to the end / To plying useful stitches, / I'll be content if asked to mend / The little angels' breeches.