ISAAC WATTS

��A Cradle Hymn

"LJ USH ! my dear, lie still and slumber,

• * Holy angels guard thy bed !

Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep, my babe ; thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide ;

All without thy care or payment : All thy wants are well supplied.

How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be,

When from heaven He descended And became a child like thee !

Soft and easy is thy cradle:

Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,

When His birthplace was a stable And His softest bed was hay.

Blessed babe ! what glorious features

Spotless fair, divinely bright ! Must He dwell with brutal creatures?

How could angels bear the sight?

Was there nothing but a manger

Cursed sinners could afford To receive the heavenly stranger ?

Did they thus affront their Lord ?

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