Page:A Christmas Faggot (1884, Gurney).djvu/38

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20
A CRADLE SONG


All sweet voices are the echoes
 That in varied tones reply
To that Voice which through the ages
 Sings earth’s lullaby.


Oftentimes a sleepless infant
 For a season frets and cries:
All at once an unseen finger
 Curtains up the little eyes.
So the cradled child He nurses
 God will tranquillise.


His the all-enfolding Presence;
 Oh, what tutelage it brings