1 Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber;
Holy angels guard Thy bed;
Heav'nly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.

2 Sleep, my babe, thy food and raiment,
House and home, thy friends provide;
And without thy care or payment,
All thy wants are well supplied.

3 How much better thou'rt tended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven He descended,
And became a child like thee.

4 Soft and easy is thy cradle,
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,
When His birthplace was a stable,
And His softest bed the hay.

Amen.