  “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, “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.” endpaper divider |
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