Watts Cradle Song
About the Song
Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber;
Holy angels guard thy bed!
Heav'nly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.
Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment,
House and home thy friends provide:
All without thy care or payment,
All thy wants are well supplied.
How much better thou'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven he descended,
And became a child like thee!
Soft and easy is thy cradle,
Coarse and hard thy Savior lay,
When his birth-place was a stable
And his softest bed was hay.
Lo! he slumbers in his manger,
Where the hornèd oxen fed;
Peace, my darling, here's no danger,
Here's no ox a-near thy bed.
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!
Words: Isaac Watts (1674-1748)