Hush now, my babe, and close thine eyes,
Thy weary limbs must find their rest,
While night descends from starry skies,
And love doth cradle thee to breast.
Thy weary limbs must find their rest,
While night descends from starry skies,
And love doth cradle thee to breast.
Sleep on, my darling, sleep and dream,
Of joys that wait for thee to find,
Thy mother's love, a flowing stream,
Shall ever be to thee so kind.
Of joys that wait for thee to find,
Thy mother's love, a flowing stream,
Shall ever be to thee so kind.