Who fed me from her gentle breast,
And hushed me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheeks sweet kisses prest?
When sleep forsook my open eye
Who was it sang sweet hushaby,
And rocked me that I should not cry?
Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on mt cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
When pain and sickness made me cry
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
Who dressed my doll in clothes so gay,
And taught me pretty how to play,
And minded all I had to say?
Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God's holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom's pleasant way?
And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward thy care,
When thou art feeble, old and grey
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
And when I see thee hang thy head
Twill be my turn to watch thy bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed.
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