How wilt thou reward her, O sweet little babe? How give back the years of her labor and care? How pay for the tears of sweet sympathy shed; The heart’s deepest yearning; the river of prayer? O sweet little babe, learn of Jesus to love; Sing Zion’s sweet songs with thy silvery voice; O then shall the heart of thy mother be glad, And o’er thy existence forever rejoice. BABY SWEET Baby sweet is a wonderful one, From the bright country beyond the sun; Whether a boy or whether a girl, Each smile is pure; each tooth is a pearl; Whether we wake at midnight or morn, Still we are glad the sweet baby is born. Baby sweet is a wonderful one, With eyes that shine like dew in the sun; With velvet hands of the lily white; With cheeks and lips of the roses bright. Whether a boy or whether a girl, A voter to be; the flag to unfurl. Baby sweet is a wonderful one. Teach the small feet to lovingly run; Teach the small hands to loving caress; Teach the pure lips to pray and to bless. Whether a boy or whether a girl; Whether its locks are to braid or to curl; Hide from it vanity, cruelty hide; Feed it with purity, never with pride. ANGEL OF THE CRADLE There’s an angel in the cradle. ’Tis a little stainless one, In the morning of existence. Here we see the rising sun Of intelligence unfolding, And its dewy thought unspring, All so primitive and hopeful, As the mind unfurls its wing. Deathless wing! O little stranger, New-born messenger of love. Jesus shield thy soul from danger, Jesus lead thee safe above. Suffer not, O blest Redeemer! Suffer not this child to stray From the fountain of salvation And the happy, heavenly way. Suffer not, O God, my Saviour! This dear child’s young heart to fill With the follies of the worldly. May she yield to Thee her will. May she seek Thee, living Saviour; Teach her in Thy blood to trust, And for faith in Thy redemption, Thou mayest call her with the just. O God! my heart, too full for utterance, Claims Thy promise. Leave her not. May Thy Spirit warn and shield her: Be her joy, whate’er her lot. O Thou for sinners crucified! Hear for this babe the mother’s prayer. O teach her all the way of life; May Lily be an angel there, Where comes no cloud of sin and fear And never falls the parting tear. LET ANGELS NAME IT Mother, how thy little darling Softly twines its tiny arms ’Round thy neck, like infant tendrils, Bright with more than earthly charms. What callest thou the baby cherub? O can mortals find a name, Suited to its guileless spirit, And its fair and fragile frame?