Father has gone to the mountains for gold Hid for his baby for ages untold; He will come home when the wind bloweth cold, Calling for baby. Brother has gone to the mountains to seek Quartz-gems as rosy as baby’s bright cheek; He will bring topaz from valley and peak, Calling for baby. Sister has gone to the mountains to bring All the bright blossoms that wake in the spring; She will come, blithe as the birdies that sing, Calling for baby. If we forget thou are lent from the skies, Angels may come from the Father All-Wise, With a great love shining out of their eyes, Calling for baby. THE CRADLE SONG OF THE NILE “Lullaby, darling one; now you will ride On the Nile waters so quiet and wide. Let no one say my baby has cried There in the rushes.” Thus said a mother, and offered a prayer, As the small ark floated daintily there; Leaving to God and His tenderest care The cradle of rushes. Who is now come to the river to lave? Oh! ’tis the king’s daughter lovely and brave; Bidding her maidens bring in from the wave The cradle of rushes. Pharaoh’s fair daughter bends low to caress: “Hushaby, pretty one! give me a kiss;— Who ever saw such a cradle as this, Built out of rushes! “Go! call a Hebrew to nurse it for me:— Sing a glad song till it laughs in its glee. ’Tis well I was first the sweet cherub to see, Hid in the rushes. “Dress it in raiment of loveliest dyes; Pharaoh’s great gems are not bright as its eyes; This is the king’s daughter’s beautiful prize, Found in the rushes.” SNOW-BIRDS Birdies dancing on the snow, Merry as if this were June; And the little wiry feet Skipping to the gayest tune; With no stockings and no shoes, Chirping forth the morning news. O, you’ll freeze your tiny feet While you chipper glad and sweet! “Freeze?” they chipper, “no, for we Are the snow-birds, don’t you see? This is telling our delight For the morning golden-bright, As we breakfast on the seeds Gathered from the old dry weeds. Does your song of praises flow Glad, as we chirp on the snow?” THE MINER’S CRADLE SONG Dig a little farther; baby needs a hood, Cloak, and shoes, and blanket,—everything that’s good. Dig a little farther; never say despair, While the little darling needs a dress and chair. Sell the watch for candles, make the lantern burn; Soon we’ll strike the treasure with a glad return. Dig a little farther; show us, Lord, the way! For the precious baby we will dig and pray. Sharpen pick and shovel; see that rope is strong; Turn the windlass careful, lest you hush the song By the little cradle where the baby sleeps, And God’s loving angel ceaseless vigil keeps! EVE’S CARE