Sleep, Holy Babe, upon your Mother's breast,
Great Lord of earth and sea and sky,
How sweet it is to see you lie
In such a place of rest.

Sleep, Holy Babe; your angels watch around,
All bending low, with folded wings,
Before th'incarnate King of Kings,
In rev'rent awe profound.

Sleep, Holy Babe, while I with Mary gaze,
In joy upon that face a while,
Upon the loving infant smile,
Which there divinely plays.

Sleep, Holy Babe, ah, take your brief repose,
Too quickly will your slumbers break,
And you to lengthen'd pains awake,
That death alone shall close.

O Lady Blest, Sweet Virgin, hear my cry;
Forgive the wrong that I have done
To you, in causing your dear Son
Upon the Cross to die.