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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;
