All that I am, all that I hope to be
I owe my angel mother;
My hand she guided as I learned to write,
My feet she guided in the ways of right,
My hopes she cherished, like a flame of light,
God bless her soul, God bless her memory,
My angel mother.

 Her weary hands are crumbled into dust,
But they shall live in leaves of forest trees;
Her tender heart may make sweet flowers I trust,
Heaven bless her soul, Earth bless her memories,
My angel mother.

-- President Abraham Lincoln