The Treasury Of Sacred Song

W. Blake

Sweet dreams, form a shade

O'er my lovely infant's head!

Sweet dreams of pleasant streams

By happy, silent, moony beams!

Sweet sleep, with soft down

Weave thy brows an infant crown!

Sweet sleep, angel mild,

Hover o'er my happy child!

Sweet babe, in thy face

Holy image I can trace;

Sweet babe, once like thee

Thy Maker lay, and wept for me!

Wept for me, for thee, for all,

When He was an Infant small.

Thou His image ever see [184] ,

Heavenly face that smiles on thee!

Smiles on thee, on me, on all,

Who became an Infant small;

Infant smiles like His own smile

Heaven and earth to peace beguile.