1 Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber;
holy Angels guard your bed!
Heav'nly blessings without number
gently falling on your head.

2 Sleep, my babe; your food and raiment,
house and home, your friends provide;
all without your care and payment,
all your wants are well supplied.

3 How much better you are attended
than God's one and only Son,
when from heaven he descended,
fragile baby like you little one.

4 Soft and easy is your cradle;
coarse and hard your Saviour lay,
when his birthplace was a stable
and his softest bed was hay.

5 Lo, he slumbers in his manger,
where the horned oxen fed;
Peace, my darling! here's no danger;
here are no oxen near your bed.

6 May you live to know and fear him,
trust and love him all your days:
then go dwell for ever near him,
see his face and sing his praise. 

Isaac Watts (1715, modernised)