THOU wakest from rosy sleep, to play
With bounding heart, my boy!
Before thee lies a long bright day
Of summer and of joy.

Thou hast no heavy thought or dream
To cloud thy fearless eye;

Long be it thus-life's early stream
Should still reflect the sky.

16

MOTHER'S CRADLE HYMN.

Yet, ere the cares of life lie dim

On thy young spirit's wings, Now in thy morn forget not Him

From whom each pure thought springs!

So in the onward vale of tears,
Where'er thy path may be,

When strength hath bowed to evil years,
He will remember thee!

HEMANS.

MOTHER'S CRADLE HYMN.

GENTLY, gently fall sweet sleep
O'er thine eyelids soft and deep;
Gently, as the breath of flowers
In the bright noon's honeyed hours;
Gently, as the dews of heaven
On the wild rose at the even.

Thou art pure, my darling boy!
Lovely, bright, and full of joy,
Slumbering without dream of care,
Of life's sorrows unaware,

Like the flowers in spring that come
Gaily bursting into bloom.