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.
See the kinder shepherds round Him,
Telling wonders from the sky!
Where they sought Him, there they found Him
With His Virgin-Mother by.
See the lovely Babe a-dressing;
Lovely Infant, how He smiled!
When He wept, the Mother's blessing
Soothed and hush'd the holy Child.
Lo, He slumbers in His manger,
Where the hornéd oxen fed;
—Peace, my darling, here's no danger;
Here's no ox a-near thy bed!
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!
I could give thee thousand kisses,
Hoping what I most desire;
Not a mother's fondest wishes
Can to greater joys aspire.
Isaac Watts.