How gently she sleeps,
How silent she keeps,
Her breath is as soft as the morn;
While every new grace
In the dear one I trace,
To my bosom in transport is borne.
No sorrow she knows,
This hour of repose,
Nor hunger nor thirst nor disease;
The world with its cares,
And temptations and snares,
Has never invaded her peace.
I've linger'd awhile,
To gaze on that smile,
So sweetly that plays on her lips;
Some innocent dream
Or some heavenly beam,
Is visiting her while she sleeps.
My lov'd one awake,
Thy slumberings break,
My daughter, 'tis time to arise;
Thou joy of my heart,
A lent blessing thou art,
To be given again to the skies.
O DEAR ONE.
[[Listen]]
FOR A CHILD DANGEROUSLY ILL.