Sickness mars thee with its spite,

Cruel sickness changes quite;

How, alas! its traces tell!

Yet sleep, and thou shalt be well.

Sleep, thy mother's kisses poured

On her darling son. Repose;

God give end to all our woes.

Sleep, and wake by sleep restored,

Pangs that make thee faint shall fly!

Sleep, my child, and lullaby!