Sleep, little bird, 'neath thy mother's wing;
The sun sinks low in the purpling sky,
While gently the night-winds thy cradle swing
And croon thee a tender lullaby.
Sleep, little one, on thy mother's breast;
Now deeper and deeper the shadows fall
As twilight covers the dreaming west,
And the evening's peace broods over all.
Rest, dear heart, in God's infinite calm,—
Truth tenderly guards thee where'er thou be,
Freely Life gives of its healing balm,
And Love like a garment enfoldeth thee.
