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THE MOTHER'S CAROL.
Sing soft and low
Ye winds that blow
And whisper round this quiet shed,
Wake not His sleep
For shadows deep
Are drawing round His sacred Head.
Sing sweet and high
Ye birds that fly,
But gently trill your tender theme;
Lest all too soon
Your joyous tune
Should wake Him from some Heavenly dream.
Sing loud and strong
Ye Angel throng
To Kings and shepherds bear the sign,
That peace on earth
Has come to birth
And lies amid the humble kine.
O let Him rest
In this poor nest,
Where still His Mother softly sings;
For well we know
What tears will flow
Ere sorrows crown Him King of Kings.
