Page:Poems of home and country (IA poemsofhomecount01smit).pdf/38

 Sleep, baby, sleep!

Thy rest shall angels keep;

The lamb before the doors shall feed,

And suffer neither want nor need.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Sleep, baby, sleep!

Near where the woodbines creep;

Be like the lamb so meek and mild,

A sweet and kind and gentle child.

Sleep, baby, sleep!

HUS comes another; may she stand

Among the saints in light,

Blest Saviour, at thy own right hand,

And walk with thee in white.

And should her pilgrimage be long,

And sharp affliction's rod,

Or short her pathway to the skies,

Oh, may it end in God!

18, 1838.