 | From Sunset Ridge |  |
I
Before the azure gate of heaven
An infant doth appear;
The golden hinges softly turn
T' admit the pilgrim dear.
An infant doth appear;
The golden hinges softly turn
T' admit the pilgrim dear.
Oh! pretty one, what hast thou done
To earn repose so soon?
“Unto my parents dear I sang
My little lisping rune.”
To earn repose so soon?
“Unto my parents dear I sang
My little lisping rune.”
How cam'st thou hither, Babe beloved?
Thy feet were not so strong
That thou couldst cross thy nursery floor;
“My journey was not long!”
Thy feet were not so strong
That thou couldst cross thy nursery floor;
“My journey was not long!”
“The morning Star was given to be
The planet of my birth;
And, as it flitted from the sky,
I flitted from the earth.”
The planet of my birth;
And, as it flitted from the sky,
I flitted from the earth.”
| From Sunset Ridge | |