—Alfred Lord Tennyson.
A Slumber Song
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Thy father is tending the sheep:
Thy mother is shaking the dreamland tree,
And down comes a little dream on thee.
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Sleep, baby, sleep.
The large stars are the sheep:
The little stars are the lambs, I guess,
And the bright moon is the shepherdess.
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Our Saviour loves His sheep:
He is the Lamb of God on high,
Who for our sakes came down to die.
Sleep, baby, sleep.
—From the German by Caroline Southey.
Psalm XXIII
The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil:
For thou art with me;
Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me
In the presence of mine enemies:
Thou anointest my head with oil;
My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
—King David.