Hush! 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 art 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
Was there nothing but a manger
Cursèd sinners could afford
To receive the heavenly stranger
Did they thus affront their Lord
Soft, my child: I did not chide thee
Though my song might sound too hard
'Tis thy mother sits beside thee
And her arms shall be thy guard
Lo, He slumbers in His manger
Where the hornèd oxen fed
Peace, my darling; here 's no danger
Here 's no oxen near thy bed
'Twas to save thee, child, from dying
Save my dear from burning flame
Bitter groans and endless crying
That thy blest Redeemer came
May you 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 praise