 | Herb o' Grace |  |
45
A BIRTH-NIGHT SONG
The Child is rocked on Mary's knee,
Cold in the stall this bitter night,
And “Lullalay-loo,” soft singeth she,
“My little Boy and Heaven's Delight!”
When singing stars went up the sky
The Prince of Peace oped a sweet eye.
Cold in the stall this bitter night,
And “Lullalay-loo,” soft singeth she,
“My little Boy and Heaven's Delight!”
When singing stars went up the sky
The Prince of Peace oped a sweet eye.
His Highness now how small He lies!
He to be God and Very God!
A Jacob's ladder spans the skies
Whereof each rung is angel-trod,
And all their carols are of Peace,
Though the sick world hath little ease.
He to be God and Very God!
A Jacob's ladder spans the skies
Whereof each rung is angel-trod,
And all their carols are of Peace,
Though the sick world hath little ease.
Come in, poor war-worn folk, and rest;
Kneel where the sinless creatures kneel;
The Babe snugged warm in Mother's breast,
He is your Wound-Wort, your All-Heal
Balsam for hurts that throb and smart,
Small Rose of Love on Mary's heart.
Kneel where the sinless creatures kneel;
The Babe snugged warm in Mother's breast,
He is your Wound-Wort, your All-Heal
Balsam for hurts that throb and smart,
Small Rose of Love on Mary's heart.
46
Shut close within His hand so small
The sick heart's medicine; not a sword.
Come in, come in, sad people all,
Here is your ancient peace restored!
“Lullalay-loo,” sings Mary mild,
Kissing her God, her Lamb, her Child.
The sick heart's medicine; not a sword.
Come in, come in, sad people all,
Here is your ancient peace restored!
“Lullalay-loo,” sings Mary mild,
Kissing her God, her Lamb, her Child.
| Herb o' Grace | |