14. Sleep, Holy Babe

Sleep, Holy Babe,

Upon Thy Mothers 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 rev'rent 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,

O snatch Thy brief repose;

Too quickly will Thy slumber break,

And Thou to lengthened pains awake,

That death alone shall close.