A golden sea of swimming light Poured o'er the sombre sh.o.r.es of night, While the glad mother, to her breast Her child yet close and closer pressed, Her rescued treasure--newly born-- Her babe--given back on Christmas morn.

_Thomas Hood._

A LULLING SONG.

Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber, Holy Angels guard thy bed; Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide; All without thy care or payment, All thy wants are well supplied.

How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of G.o.d could be, When from heaven He descended, And became a child like thee!

Soft and easy is thy cradle: Coa.r.s.e and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable, And His softest bed was hay.

See the kinder shepherds round Him, Telling wonders from the sky!

Where they sought Him, there they found Him With His Virgin-Mother by.

See the lovely Babe a-dressing; Lovely Infant, how He smiled!

When He wept, the Mother's blessing Soothed and hush'd the holy Child.

Lo, He slumbers in His manger, Where the horned oxen fed; --Peace, my darling, here's no danger; Here's no ox a-near thy bed!

May'st thou live to know and fear Him, Trust and love Him all thy days; Then go dwell forever near Him, See His face and sing His praise!

I could give thee thousand kisses, Hoping what I most desire; Not a mother's fondest wishes Can to greater joys aspire.

_Isaac Watts._

GOOD-NIGHT.

Good-night, good-night, the day is done; Rock, rock the cradle, little one; The lamp is low, and low the sun, Good-night!

Good-night, good-night, the Christmas bough Bends to the rocking wind, and thou To mother's ditty noddest now, Good-night!

Good-night, good-night, the holy day Bring baby sweets, and sweets alway!

Rock, rock--then, tiptoe, steal away, Good-night!

_H. S. M._

END OF BOOK III.