REST
Reading edition
As a little child I come To be gathered to your breast So tired that my lips are dumb, So sad that my warm heart is numb: Belovèd, let me rest. Oh, how all the noises die, All the cruel voices cease, I can sleep when you are by, And I am too faint to cry: Here at last is peace. Hold me, nurse me, love me ... so ... Almost I could learn to weep! Hush, I feel my spirit grow ... When you tire ... let me go ... I shall be ... asleep. Irene Rutherford McLeod