 | The girl's reading-book ; in prose and poetry |  |
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TO A DYING INFANT.
Go to thy rest, my child!
Go to thy dreamless bed,
Gentle and undefil'd,
With blessings on thy head.
Go to thy dreamless bed,
Gentle and undefil'd,
With blessings on thy head.
Fresh roses in thy hand,
Buds on thy pillow laid,
Haste from this fearful land
Where flowers so quickly fade,
Buds on thy pillow laid,
Haste from this fearful land
Where flowers so quickly fade,
Before thy heart might learn
In waywardness to stray,
Before thy feet could turn,
The dark and downward way;
In waywardness to stray,
Before thy feet could turn,
The dark and downward way;
Ere sin might wound the breast,
Or sorrow wake the tear,
Rise to thy home of rest,
In yon celestial sphere.
Or sorrow wake the tear,
Rise to thy home of rest,
In yon celestial sphere.
Because thy smile was fair,
Thy lip and eye so bright,
Because thy cradle-care
Was such a fond delight,
Thy lip and eye so bright,
Because thy cradle-care
Was such a fond delight,
Shall love with weak embrace
Thine upward flight detain?
No! seek thy blessed place
Amid the angel train.
Thine upward flight detain?
No! seek thy blessed place
Amid the angel train.
| The girl's reading-book ; in prose and poetry | |