Mighty is the arm that guideth on the way! Planets keep their orbits while the comets play. And you never jostle with your baby-brood, While they learn the praises of the Loving God. Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, little earth-world, Flying towards the Pleiades bright unfurled; While we sing Love’s anthem, shouting it afar; And a tender chorus swells for thee, O star! ROSES Sweet roses! and they bloomed as pure As shining cloud and shining dew, And when I asked why such sweet buds From out the cold, damp hillsides grew; The roses nodded in the wind, And every velvet lip replied, “We came to tell the love of God, And tell the sweet, old story wide. And that we might the longer stay To light the path and cheer the way, Where’er the little children stray, Our stems are wisely wrapped in thorn, That weary night and golden morn, From baby lips to wake a smile ’Mid baby thoughts all pure from guile.” MOTHER EARTH’S LULLABY Rest, baby, rest, On my glad breast. All the babies I have carried Ever since sweet Eve was married, And I love them all so well, That I never yet could tell Which I think the dearest one, Whether daughter, whether son, All are precious from their birth To the fond old mother Earth. Rest, baby, rest, On my glad breast. O, the pansies, pinks and roses, Buttercups and fair, wild posies, On the lawns and in the wild, I am growing for each child; Making streamlets dance with glee For the baby eyes to see. Guarding nests of birdies near That bring songs to baby’s ear. Rest, baby, rest, On my glad breast. Bread from golden field is coming; Honey flows where bees are humming. These in richness soon will come; Apple, berry, grape and plum. But may mother not forget Milk is baby’s glory yet; And for years it still must be, If you would a jewel see. Rest, baby, rest, On my glad breast. How I watch your priceless slumbers. Holding careful, countless numbers; Constant turning round and round, That the sleeping sleep more sound In the shade; and those that wake See the rosy morning break. List’ning to hosannas sweet, That all babyhood will greet. Rest, baby, rest, On my glad breast. Whether in the wilds near Eden, Or in Father Noah’s garden, Kings and peasants, rich and poor, Born to ignorance or lore, I have done the best I could With the flocks of babyhood. Every baby is a gem; My old heart goes out to them! LULLABY OF THE RAIN-DROPS ’Tis the patter of the rain-drops, Baby dear, Falling lightly on the home-roof, That we hear. Patter, patter, low and sweet, Like the touch of velvet feet Coming near.