Wide-a-wake; as you hear,
"Mercy's sake, quiet, dear!"
New shoes, new frock;
Vague views of what's o'clock
When it's time to go to bed,
And scorn sublime for what is said
Folded hands, saying prayers,
Understands not nor cares--
Thinks it odd, smiles away;
Yet may God hear her pray!
Bed gown white, kiss Dolly;
Good night!--that's Polly,
Fast asleep, as you see,
Heaven keep my girl for me!
WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS
* * * * *
CRADLE HYMN
Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber;
Holy angels guard thy bed;
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.
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.
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 kindly shepherds round him,
Telling wonders from the sky!
When they sought Him, there they found Him,
With his Virgin-Mother by.
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