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Some COPIES of the following HYMN having got abroad already into feveral Hands, the Author has been perfuaded to permit it to appear in Public, at the End of thefe SONGS for Children.

HUS

A CRADLE HYM N.

USH! my dear, lie ftill and flumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed!

Heavenly bleffings 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 supply'd.

How much better thou 'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven he defcended,
And became a child like thee?

Soft and easy is thy cradle :

Courfe and hard thy Saviour lay:
When his birth-place was a stable,
And his foftest bed was hay.
Bleffed babe what glorious features,
Spotlefs fair, divinely bright!
Muft he dwell with brutal creatures!
How could angels bear the fight?

Was

Was there nothing but a manger
Curfed finners could afford,
To receive the heavenly ftranger!
Did they thus affront their Lord?

Soft my child; I did not chide thee,
Though my fong might found too hard;

'Tis thy

* Mother

Nurse that

}

fits befide thee,

And her arms fhall be thy guard.

Yet to read the shameful story,

How the Jews abus'd their King, How they ferv'd the Lord of glory, Makes me angry while I fing.

See the kinder fhepherds round him,

Telling wonders from the sky!

Where they fought him, there they found him,
With his Virgin Mother by.

See the lovely babe a-dreffing;
Lovely infant, how he fmil'd!

When he wept, the Mother's bleffing

Sooth'd and hush'd the holy child.

Lo, he flumbers in his manger,

Where the horned oxen fed;

Peace, my darling, here's no danger,

Here's no ox a-near thy bed.

*Here you may ufe the words, Brother, Sifter, Neighbour,

Friend, &c.

VOL. LVI.

R

'Twas

'Twas to fave thee, child, from dying,
Save my dear from burning flame,
Bitter groans and endless crying,
That thy bleft Redeemer came.

May'ft thou live to know and fear him,
Truft and love him all thy days;
Then go dwell for ever near him,
See his face, and fing his praife!

I could give thee thousand kiffes,
Hoping what I most defire;
Not a Mother's fondeft wifhes
Can to greater joys aspire.

CON

CONTENT S

WATTS'S

POEMS.

BOOK I. CONTINUED.

On DIVINE LOVE.

THE Hazard of Loving the Creatures,

Defiring to Love Christ,

The Heart given away,
Meditation in a Grove,

The Faireft and the Only Beloved,

A Sight of Christ,

Page

3

4

5

7

8

10

II

Mutual Love ftronger than Death,

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