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The Book of Praise.
Thou liest in down, soft every way ; Thy Saviour lay in straw and hay ; Thy cradle is far better drest Than the hard crib where He dfd rest.
None dare disturb thy present ease ; He had a thousand enemies ; Thou liv'st in great security ; But He was punish'd, and for thee !
God make thy mother's health increase, To see thee grow in strength and grace, In wisdom and humility, As infant Jesus did for thee !
God fill thee with His heavenly light To steer thy Christian course aright; Make thee a tree, of blessed root, That ever bends with godly fruit!
Sleep now, my dear, and take thy rest; And if with riper years thou'rt blest, Increase in wisdom, day and night, Till thou attain'st th' eternal Light !
John Christian Jacobi. 1722. From John Christopher Ruben.
G Holy Lord, content to live In a poor home, a lowly child,
And in subjection meek to give Obedience to Thy mother mild ;
Lead every child that bears Thy Name To walk in Thy pure upright way,
To dread the touch of sin and shame, And humbly, like Thyself, obey !