John Brownlie (trans.) · 110 of 130

II: Lord, rest the child, cut off at morning hour

Lord, rest the child, cut off at morning hour; Crushed as a bud before it came to flower; Gone as a star that lent its feeble ray, Ere yet the morn had brightened into day.

Lord, rest the child. No bliss on earth was thine; Drink now the pleasures of the life divine; Here streams that gladden, when the sun is high, Shrink in their channels 'neath a burning sky.

Lord, rest the child. Within the heavenly place, Thine angel ever sees the Father's face; Thine is the kingdom, and to claim His own, Christ left the glory of a kingly throne.

Lord, rest the child. We will not weep for thee, Death is not death to those with Christ that be; Mourn we with weeping, that the sin is ours, To blight the beauty of earth's fairest flowers.