Baby-Land

Babies

Darling babies, precious babies! To the cradles flocking, flocking; Little men and little women In the cradles rocking, rocking.

Sweetest baby voices cooing; Dimpled fingers clasping, playing; Baby smiles and baby glances, From the cradles swaying, swaying.

O! the stars may pale in ashes, And the sun may cease its glowing; But these new-born souls forever Must be onward going, going!

Bless these tender hearts, O Saviour! With Thy love these loves entwining; Make them Thine own fadeless jewels. In Thy crown forever shining.

Lullaby of the Arctic

Sleep, baby, sleep;—safe from the storm, Hid in thy wrappings downy and warm Tell all the drifting snow Tell all the winds that blow, That they must softly go; Baby is here.

Sleep, baby, sleep; storm-clouds have fled, And not a snow-flake touched baby’s bed! Tell the Aurora bright, Tell all the stars of night, Send down your cheery light; Baby is here!

Sleep, baby, sleep: God holds the world: His starry banner now is unfurled. Hear what the angels say, Sent on their shining way, One soul is pure as they; Baby is here.

Baby Noah

When Mother Lamech’s baby boy In the bright hammock swung, And Grandpapa Methuselah Some cheery anthem sung, As baby Noah sucked his thumb, Or played with wee pink toes, He knew not of the flood to come With all its startling woes.

And when he clapped to see the stars Peer through the heavens dark, He did not know his dimpled hands Would plan the precious Ark. He knew not that the baby voice Then learning “lullaby” Must yet be by the nations heard, Sent by the King on high;

That he must preach the coming Christ, The Saviour yet to die, And men would scoff and hate his name And pass his warnings by; That violence in all the earth Would run its riot free, Until the storm and cyclone came,— Avenging powers to be.

And when the birds of morning sang The chorus of the groves, And baby Noah cooed and laughed To see the bright-winged doves, He knew not that on Ararat The other side the Flood, He would send forth a bird like that To bring him tidings good.

So we, who shield our little ones And guide their baby feet, Know not the bitter that may come, Or snares hid in the sweet. We hold their hands and kiss their lips, We wrap them in our love; And yet a little while and then Who’ll guide them when they rove?

Lord Jesus, Saviour of the lambs, Bless Thou these little ones; Teach us, O Lord, that we may teach Thy daughters and Thy sons; That we may right examples set, In pleasure or in straits; That they may in our footsteps go And enter Pearly Gates.

Lullaby of the Ocean

Rest, darling, rest, On Ocean’s breast, Millions of star-worlds are mirrored to-night Till the great deep is all sparkling with light; O the blue sea is a glorious sight, Rocking my baby till morning shines bright! Rest, baby, rest, On the sea’s breast; Beautiful Deep, Rock us to sleep!

When the sea roars, And the storm pours, And the great billows so fearfully reel, And the loud thunders burst peal upon peal, Jesus, our Lord, lays His hand on the wheel, Then the great waves come sobbing and kneel. Rest, baby, rest, On the sea’s breast; Beautiful Deep, Rock us to sleep!

Keep Warm the Baby’s Feet

O mother of the darling sweet, Keep warm, keep warm the baby’s feet! Would you make strong the tiny form, Against disease, against the storm, Then keep the precious feet most warm!

Countless little graves now hold The tiny form within their fold, Because in life their feet were cold. Then, mother of the darling sweet, Keep warm, keep warm the baby’s feet!

Lullaby of the Forest

Sweet is summer’s breeze Through the leafy trees, Where the honeysuckles grow, And the violets below Open wide their bright blue eyes, Looking towards the sunny skies. Sleep, while gentle south winds blow Over blossoms white as snow.

Now the sunset bird By his trill has stirred All the evening songsters near; What a warbling choir is here! And the chorus “Whippoorwill” Calls from every vine-clad hill. Sleep, while all the birdies sing Praises to our Saviour King.

In the leafy nest Songsters are at rest; All the little ground birds hide ’Neath the grassy curtains wide; In its well-made mossy bed Every squirrel rests its head. Sleep, my little precious bud From the Paradise of God.

Our Kitty

Kitty was playing with one little ball, A ball that was hung on a string; Its bright eyes were dancing in merriest glee, Watching how far it would swing. And dear little puss, as quick as a dart, Would dash it, when near her it swung; But kitty could only laugh out of her eyes, For joy that a ball could be strung.

O frolicsome kitty! Say, why did you come Where somebody often gets cross? You don’t know what rough words may meet you in life, When there’s not a play-ball to toss! Then Truth answered me in a sweet, loving tone, And said that wee kitty had come To teach little children to ever be kind And tender to pets in the home.

The velvet is soft on the small, fragile paws; And if it with gentleness meet, ’Tis seldom that any will know it has claws, Or learn there are pins in its feet. And kitty is come to show us a way To work for a wonderful thing; When lions and lambs together shall play, And all hearts together shall sing!

Mother’s Lullaby

Never fear, darling, nor start at a sound; Mother’s arm foldeth thee tenderly ’round. Mother’s heart beats for thee; rest on it, love; Mother’s voice sings for thee, soft as a dove.

Go to sleep, baby, and grow to be strong. Mother will teach thee a beautiful song; Beautiful song that together we’ll sing In the Bright Land, that forever is Spring.

O soft, little feet, lie still in the wrap, For ten little toes are needing a nap; One little hand reaches up for a kiss; Baby can’t sleep without mother’s caress!

But mother is worn and weary to-night, Go to sleep, baby, till morning is bright. Mother wakes easy; don’t fear if she nod; For nobody loves like mother and God.

Wintergreen Berries

’Twas a cold, rough day As we sped away In the grand old Michigan woods; And the forest flowers, ’Mid the windy hours, Hid back in their wee, warm hoods.

But we searched the ground, And the red drops found ’Neath their shining parasols green; Two or three on a stem, Each a round, ruby gem, ’Neath coverts of emerald sheen.

O little, bright globes! In your wee, red robes, And hid under sweet, scented leaves, O why do you grow, Hid away till the snow Its great white coverlet weaves?

But the berries cried, “We were made to hide, Till the dear, little hands shall come And bear us away For their own sweet play, In the corner of some glad home.”

The Cradle Song of the Rockies

Father has gone to the mountains for gold Hid for his baby for ages untold; He will come home when the wind bloweth cold, Calling for baby.

Brother has gone to the mountains to seek Quartz-gems as rosy as baby’s bright cheek; He will bring topaz from valley and peak, Calling for baby.

Sister has gone to the mountains to bring All the bright blossoms that wake in the spring; She will come, blithe as the birdies that sing, Calling for baby.

If we forget thou are lent from the skies, Angels may come from the Father All-Wise, With a great love shining out of their eyes, Calling for baby.

The Cradle Song of the Nile

“Lullaby, darling one; now you will ride On the Nile waters so quiet and wide. Let no one say my baby has cried There in the rushes.”

Thus said a mother, and offered a prayer, As the small ark floated daintily there; Leaving to God and His tenderest care The cradle of rushes.

Who is now come to the river to lave? Oh! ’tis the king’s daughter lovely and brave; Bidding her maidens bring in from the wave The cradle of rushes.