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Sleep my babe, thy food and rai • ment House and home thy friends provide;

D. C.

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4. Soft, my child, I did not chide thee,

Though my song may sound too hard ; 'Tis thy mother sits beside thee,

And her arms shall be thy guard. Yet to read the shameful story,

How the Jews abus'd their King, How they served the Lord of glory,

Makes me angry while I sing.

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 praiso. I could give thee thousand kisses,

Hoping what I most desire: Not a mother's fondest wishes Can to greater joys aspire.

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and Schools.

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