Sleep, my beloved, sleep—
The stormy winds are high—
The gathered lightnings sweep
In splendour through the sky,—
Yet fear thou not the tempest’s voice of dread,
While keeps my love its vigil round thy bed.
Rest, my beloved, rest—
The ocean waves beat loud—
Each billows foaming crest
Involves thee like a shroud,—
Yet shrink not, Christian, from the raging main—
I bind the waters in their crystal chain.
Peace, my beloved, peace—
Do anxious thoughts appal?
At my command they cease—
My word dispels them all.
Dark though the visions o’er thy slumber hung,
Rouse not, nor start, my arms are round thee flung.
Sleep, my beloved, sleep—
The brazen voice of war,
From vale and mountain-steep,
Is thundered forth afar,—
That awful trump the nations quake to hear,
Falls but in distant murmurs on thine ear.
Hush! my beloved, hush!
The tumult threatens near
Thou hear’st the gathering rush—
Thou see’st the blanch of fear,—
Yet quail not thou, though empires round thee fall—
They sink or rise, responsive to my call.
Soft! my beloved, soft!
Through sickness and through pain
Thou hear’st glad notes aloft—-
The rich angelic strain.
Do not I smooth thy couch, and hush thy dreams,
And cool thy parched lips from celestial streams?
Sleep, my beloved, sleep,
Beneath the quiet sod
Is still repose, and deep,
Till sounds the trump of God.
For thee no terror hath the awful grave—
Strong is mine arm to rescue—strong to save.
Wake, my beloved, wake,
At the right hand of Love!
Thine, for thy Saviour’s sake,
The crown prepared above.
Wake, my beloved one, to the eternal morning—
Robed in the vesture of the saints’ adorning!
Sleep, my child! the moonlight sleepeth
On the ocean billow;
’Tis thy mother’s eye that keepeth
Watch beside thy pillow.
Darling, sleep! the waves are sleeping
'Neath the moonbeam’s smile;
And thy mother’s heart is keeping
Watch o’er thee the while.
Sleep, my bright one! zephyr slumbers
'Midst the forest leaves,
Where all night her plaintive numbers
Philomela weaves.
On the hills the lonely echoes
Softly sink to rest;
In the groves the solemn shadows—
Thou upon my breast.
Sleep, my babe! The lily sleepeth
On the lakes calm bosom—
Drowsy sense of slumber creepeth
O’er each bud and blossom.
On the hills green slope reclining,
Sleeps the mist afar—
Gem-like through the darkness shining
Smiles the vesper star.
Lo! the clouds that skirt the mountain,
Fold their pinions free;
Silence broods o’er fell and fountain—
Silent love o’er thee.
E’en the stormy winds are sleeping
In their caverns deep—
Watch and ward mamma is keeping,—
Sleep then, darling, sleep!