1 She sleeps--a weary one-- Rash boy, arouse her not; Her slumbers will be past full soon, For toilsome is her lot.
2 She sleeps--be quiet, now, Thou young and thoughtless child, Look on thy mother's placid brow, Thy words be low and mild.
3 Through many a silent night She's watch'd with thee alone; And found no joy with morning light, When joy from thee was gone.
4 When sickness laid thee low, She sat beside thy bed; When fever burn'd upon thy brow, Her cool hand there was laid.
5 Then softly, gently tread, And speak in accents low; How soon she'll sleep as sleep the dead, O child, thou canst not know.Source: Linden Harp: a rare collection of popular melodies adapted to sacred and moral songs, original and selected. Illustrated. Also a manual of... #64a