  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 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. 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 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 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! endpaper divider |
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