The Cradle rocked and made its moan,
“My babes could scarcely grasp their toys.”
“And one, with words of winning tone,
God’s shepherd, goes the lost to seek.”
The Cradle rocked and still made moan,
“The babes I held no word could speak!”
“And one, with children of her own,—
Her life is toil and love and prayer!”
The Cradle rocked and still made moan,
“My babes of babes could take no care!”