Paroles
1. O my precious little gem,
While I hold thee to my breast,
My some heav'n inspiring dream
Soothe thy spirit into rest.
2. But thy mother heart is riv'n,
Bitter anguish she must feel.
Nothing but the balm of heav'n
Can her wounded spirit heal.
3. Dark the night and dread the hour
When thy father lay so low.
When he felt the monster's pow'r
Who could tell thy mother's woe !
4. But thou, image of his love,
May'st in hev'n thy father see.
Erehis spirit sor'd above
'Twas his latest prayer for thee.
