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Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment,
House and home, thy friends provide; All without thy care or payment:
All thy wants are well supplied.
How much better thou 'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be, When from heaven He descended
And became a child like thee!
Soft and easy is thy cradle:
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable
And His softest bed was hay.
Blessed babe! what glorious features -
Spotless fair, divinely bright!
How could angels bear the sight?
Was there nothing but a manger
Cursèd sinners could afford
Did they thus affront their Lord ?
Soft, my child: I did not chide thee,
Though my song might sound too hard; 'T is thy mother sits beside thee, And her arms shall be thy guard.
Yet to read the shameful story
How the Jews abused their King, How they served the Lord of Glory,
Makes me angry while I sing.
See the kinder shepherds round Him,
Telling wonders from the sky!
See the lovely babe a-dressing;
Lovely infant, how He smiled! When He wept, the mother's blessing
Soothed and hushed the holy child.
Lo, He slumbers in His manger,
Where the hornèd oxen fed ;
Here's no ox anear thy bed.
'T was to save thee, child, from dying,
dear from burning flame, Bitter groans and endless crying,
That thy blest Redeemer came.
May'st thou live to know and fear Him,
Trust and love Him all thy days; Then go dwell forever near Him, See His face, and sing His praise.
Isaac Watts CRADLE SONG
ERE the moon begins to rise
Or a star to shine,
Thine, dear, thine !
Birds are sleeping in the nest
On the swaying bough,
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
SLEEP, BABY, SLEEP
SLEEP, baby, sleep! Thy father watches the sheep; Thy mother is shaking the dream-land tree, And down falls a little dream on thee:
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Sleep, baby, sleep!
Anonymous JAPANESE LULLABY
SLEEP, little pigeon, and fold your wings,
Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes; Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swing
ingSwinging the nest where her little one lies.
Away out yonder I see a star,
Silvery star with a tinkling song ;
Calling and tinkling the night along.
In through the window a moonbeam
comes, Little gold moonbeam with misty wings; All silently creeping, it asks: “ Is he sleep
ingSleeping and dreaming while mother
Up from the sea there floats the sob
shore, As though they were groaning in anguish,
and moaning Bemoaning the ship that shall come no
But sleep, little pigeon, and fold your
wings, – Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes; Am I not singing ? — see, I am swing
ing Swinging the nest where my darling lies.
THE COTTAGER'S LULLABY
THE days are cold, the nights are long;
Save thee, my pretty love!
The kitten sleeps upon the hearth,
Then why so busy thou?
Nay, start not at that sparkling light;