Drink, little love,
The pearly stream
No eye can see
That flows for thee;
Drink, love, and dream.
Sweet baby thought,
Fresh and untaught,
Bright-winged and free,
Glide on and see
The golden beams,
And silvery streams;
The budding flowers
And starry bowers
That glow and gleam
In baby’s dream.
Drink, little love.
Thy mother’s eye,
Like yonder star
That shines afar
In azure sky,
Is bent on thee
Each smile to see;
Each want to fill;
Each fear to still;
And give thee rest
Upon her breast.
Her throbbing heart
Beats to the song
Her lips prolong.
Should baby start
From fearful dream,
A fresher stream
Of song will rise
From mother then,
Till baby’s eyes
Close soft again.
O little one,
Life just begun,
Bud newly born,
Life’s early morn,
Harp newly strung,
Song never sung,
Angel unknown,
Thou art my own!
Saviour, behold,
Dearer than gold
This pearl of love
From God above:
Priceless and pure,
Gem to endure.
Lord, it is Thine;
O make it shine
With jewels there
In holy light,
And let me see
Its glow so bright,
Where glories bloom
Beyond the tomb.
Sleep, little one!
I’ll cradle thee
Upon my breast.
Thou art to be
A glorious saint
Before the throne;
To sing and praise
Our Lord, our own.
I know it now;
Upon this brow
I press so oft
With kisses soft,
A crown of light
Will glitter bright;
Forever then
I’ll love thee, when
On that glad shore,
To part no more,
I clasp my love
Safe, safe above.
The covenant
Is sure, if I,
With faithful hold
And courage bold,
To Christ draw nigh
And teach thy heart
The better part.
Sleep, little love:
Thy tiny feet
Are yet to tread
The golden street.
And thou wilt glide
With angel bands
’Mong starry worlds
In fadeless lands;
And praising God
With harp and voice,
Thy mother’s soul
Shall then rejoice.
O then these years
Of pain and tears
Will all be fled!
Rest, little head,
While shadows come
About our home;
And stars of night
Shine down so bright,
From that sweet place
Where angels sing
Of truth and grace.
On tireless wing
We, too, will rise,
O darling one!
To yonder skies,—
The victory won,
The journey done;
With joy to stand,
Hand clasped in hand,
Upon the heights
Of true delights,
Where music flows
In deathless stream;
And want and woes,
And chilling snows,
Like thy short dream,
Forever past;
Where Jesus Blest
Shall lead the throng;
And that sweet song
Of dying love
We’ll sing above.
Rest, babe of bliss,
On my fond breast;
Sweet is thy kiss:
O I am blest!
Angel unknown,
Lord, ’tis Thine own!