sleep with the star light and wake with the morn, for the Lord of all glory a saviour (baby) is born.
Would love to know the rest of the words to this and the name of the song.
Denise
hush you my baby the night wind is cold, the lambs from the hillside are loose from the fold
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Guest
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Guest
hush you my baby the night wind is cold, the lambs from the hillside are loose from the fold
Hush You, My Baby
Hush you, my baby,
the night wind is cold,
the lambs from the hillside
are safe in the fold.
Sleep with the starlight
and wake with the morn,
the Lord of all glory
a baby is born.
Hush you, my baby,
so soon to be grown,
watching by moonlight
on mountains alone,
toiling and travelling
so sleep while you can,
till the Lord of all glory
is seen as a man.
Hush you, my baby,
the years will not stay;
the cross on the hilltop
the end of the way.
Dim through the darkness,
in grief and in gloom,
the Lord of all glory
lies cold in the tomb.
Hush you, my baby,
the Father on high
in power and dominion
the darkness puts by;
bright from the shadows,
the seal and the stone,
the Lord of all glory
returns to his own.
Hush you, my baby,
the sky turns to gold;
the lambs on the hillside
are loose from the fold;
fast fades the midnight
and new springs the morn,
for the Lord of all glory
a Saviour is born.
Timothy Dudley-Smith
Hush you, my baby,
the night wind is cold,
the lambs from the hillside
are safe in the fold.
Sleep with the starlight
and wake with the morn,
the Lord of all glory
a baby is born.
Hush you, my baby,
so soon to be grown,
watching by moonlight
on mountains alone,
toiling and travelling
so sleep while you can,
till the Lord of all glory
is seen as a man.
Hush you, my baby,
the years will not stay;
the cross on the hilltop
the end of the way.
Dim through the darkness,
in grief and in gloom,
the Lord of all glory
lies cold in the tomb.
Hush you, my baby,
the Father on high
in power and dominion
the darkness puts by;
bright from the shadows,
the seal and the stone,
the Lord of all glory
returns to his own.
Hush you, my baby,
the sky turns to gold;
the lambs on the hillside
are loose from the fold;
fast fades the midnight
and new springs the morn,
for the Lord of all glory
a Saviour is born.
Timothy Dudley-Smith
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