“Lullaby, darling one; now you will ride
On the Nile waters so quiet and wide.
Let no one say my baby has cried
There in the rushes.”
Thus said a mother, and offered a prayer,
As the small ark floated daintily there;
Leaving to God and His tenderest care
The cradle of rushes.
Who is now come to the river to lave?
Oh! ’tis the king’s daughter lovely and brave;
Bidding her maidens bring in from the wave
The cradle of rushes.
Pharaoh’s fair daughter bends low to caress:
“Hushaby, pretty one! give me a kiss;—
Who ever saw such a cradle as this,
Built out of rushes!
“Go! call a Hebrew to nurse it for me:—
Sing a glad song till it laughs in its glee.
’Tis well I was first the sweet cherub to see,
Hid in the rushes.
“Dress it in raiment of loveliest dyes;
Pharaoh’s great gems are not bright as its eyes;
This is the king’s daughter’s beautiful prize,
Found in the rushes.”