Sleep, baby, sleep, at long last born
In Bethlehem as once foretold,
To parents recently forlorn,
To all who yet may be consoled.
Sleep, baby, sleep, and do not cry
When shepherds from the fields appear,
Just after angels in the sky
Have sung that Christ the Lord is near.
Sleep, baby, sleep, you need not stir
Though weary wise men humbly bring
Gold, frankincense, and even myrrh,
Fine gifts for any earthly king.
Sleep, baby, sleep, as ox and ass
Behold the Son of One “I AM”;
So age to age will come to pass
Till lion shall lie down with lamb.
—Jane Blanchard
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Vatican II Didn’t Kneel to Modernity
In his weekly catecheses on Vatican II, Pope Leo is now discussing Gaudium et Spes, one of…
No Right to Erase Baptism
Is baptism an irreversible spiritual and ontological change or a piece of recorded personal data to be…
The Church in the Age of Therapy
In 1966, Philip Rieff wrote in The Triumph of the Therapeutic that “Religious man was born to…
