The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. Containing, besides his Sermons, and Essays on miscellaneous subjects, several additional pieces, Selected from his Manuscripts by the Rev. Dr. Jennings, and the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, in 1753: to which are prefixed, memoirs of the life of the author, compiled by the Rev. George Burder. In six volumes |
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A Cradle Hymn.
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 | The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. |  |
A Cradle Hymn.
I
Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber,Holy angels guard thy bed!
Heavenly blessings, without number,
Gently falling on thy head.
II
Sleep my babe; thy food and raiment,House and home thy friends provide;
All without thy care or payment,
All thy wants are well supply'd.
III
How much better thou'rt attendedThan the Son of God could be;
When from heaven he descended,
And became a child like thee!
IV
Soft and easy is thy cradle,Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay;
When his birth-place was a stable,
And his softest bed was hay.
V
Blessed babe! what glorious features,Spotless fair, divinely bright!
Must he dwell with brutal creatures!
How could angels bear the sight!
VI
Was there nothing but a mangerCursed sinners could afford,
To receive the heav'nly stranger!
Did they thus affront their Lord!
VII
Soft, my child; I did not chide thee,Tho' my song might sound too hard,
'Tis thy Mother/Nurse that sits beside thee,
And her arms shall be thy guard.
VIII
Yet to read the shameful story,How the Jews abus'd their King;
How they serv'd the Lord of glory,
Makes me angry while I sing.
IX
See the kinder shepherds round him,Telling wonders from the sky!
Where they sought him, there they found him,
With his virgin mother by.
X
See the lovely babe a dressing;Lovely infant, how he smil'd!
When he wept, the mother's blessing
Sooth'd and hush'd the holy child.
XI
Lo, he slumbers in his manger,Where the horned oxen fed;
Peace, my darling, here's no danger,
Here's no ox a-near thy bed.
XII
'Twas to save thee, child, from dying,Save my dear from burning flame,
Bitter groans and endless crying,
That thy blest Redeemer came.
XIII
May'st thou live to know and fear him,Trust and love him all thy days;
Then go dwell for ever near him,
See his face, and sing his praise!
XIV
I could give thee thousand kisses,Hoping what I most desire;
Not a mother's fondest wishes
Can to greater joys aspire!
| The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. | |