Classic Poem

SLEEP , Holy Babe,
Upon Thy mother's breast!
Great Lord of earth and sea and sky,
How sweet it is to see Thee lie
In such a place of rest!

Sleep, Holy Babe!
Thine Angels watch around;
All bending low, with folded wings,
Before th'Incarnate King of kings,
In reverent awe profound!

Sleep, Holy Babe!
While I with Mary gaze
In joy upon that face awhile,
Upon the loving infant smile,
Which there divinely plays.

Sleep, Holy Babe!
Ah, take Thy brief repose;
Too quickly will Thy slumbers break,
And Thou to lengthen'd pains awake,
That death alone shall close.

Then must those hands,
Which now so fair I see;
Those little pearly feet of Thine,
So soft, so delicately fine,
Be pierc'd and rent for me!

Then must that brow
Its thorny crown receive;
That cheek, more lovely than the rose,
Be drench'd with blood, and marr'd with blows,
That I thereby may live.

O Lady blest!
Sweet Virgin, hear my cry!
Forgive the wrong that I have done
To thee, in causing thy dear Son
Upon the Cross to die!