A CRADLE HYMN.
1 Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed!
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.
2 Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment,
House and home, thy friends provide;
All without thy care or payment,
All thy wants are well supplied.
3 How much better thou'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven he descended,
And became a child like thee!
4 Soft and easy in thy cradle:
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,
When his birthplace was a stable,
And his softest bed was hay.
5 Blessed babe! what glorious features,
Spotless fair, divinely bright!
Must he dwell with brutal creatures?
How could angels bear the sight?
6 Was there nothing but a manger
Cursed sinners could afford,
To receive the heavenly Stranger!
Did they thus affront their Lord?
7 Soft, my child, I did not chide thee,
Though my song might sound too hard;
This thy { mother[1] } sits beside thee,
{ nurse that }
And her arms shall be thy guard.
8 Yet to read the shameful story,
How the Jews abused their King,
How they served the Lord of glory,
Makes me angry while I sing.
9 See the kinder shepherds round him,
Telling wonders from the sky!
Where they sought him, where they found him,
With his virgin mother by.