Grandmas Memories | Page 4

note how the moments so
surely and fast,
Will bring us the close of the year almost past--
"I'm thinking how like to old age it does seem,
And how o'er life's
evening for you and me gleam
The stars of God's mercies, to guide
on their way
The souls which are speeding towards heaven's glad
day."
"Ay, John," answers Grandma, "like children are we
In the 'arms
everlasting' just longing to be;
Full soon you and I will be summoned
to rest,
And close tired eyes on the dear Father's breast."
[Illustration]

Still softly and sweetly from out the next room
Still floating and
lingering 'mid shadow and gloom--
The sound of the soft murmured
"lullaby--O!"
Is heard, while the mother sings gently and low--
[Illustration: Music Sheet detail:
"Hush, my babe, lie still and
slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed."]
And Grandpa and Grandma
draw nearer together,
And on Grandpa's shoulder lies Grandma's grey
head,
As closely he holds to his fond aged heart
The wife from whose love
he holds no thought apart.
And so, while their fancies to auld lang
syne cling,
They lift their old voices, and quaveringly sing
Way thro' to its end the dear lullaby song,
So dear to them both for
the years long agone,
And straight from their hearts doth the melody
flow,
Tho' the tremulous notes are so faltering and slow.
[Illustration: Music Sheet detail:
"Hush, my babe, lie still and
slumber,
Holy angels guard thy bed;
Heavenly blessings without
number
Gently fall upon thy head."]
And now the sweet music hath reached other ears;
The baby's young
mother the lullaby hears,
And, beckoning her mother, they presently
stand
Within the dim doorway, and hand clasping hand--
They listen and smile--yet with tears in their eyes--
To the soft notes
which out from the shadows arise
From the hearts that old Time with
his years and his--
Could not rob of the sunshine of long, long ago
The clock is still ticking the moments away;
'Tis but a short time ere
the old King must lay
His sceptre, his crown, and his burdens aside,

That the new King may come with the world to abide.
And still the old grandparents quietly sit,
Unmindful of moments, tho'
fast they may flit
Towards the hour of midnight, till gently at last


Their daughter reminds them that "bedtime is past."
"Ay, daughter," says Grandma, "'tis late without doubt,
But father and
I'll see this dear old year out;
It has been a kind year, fraught with
peace from above,
And it brought us a dear great-grandbaby to love.
"It has borne us thro' duties, or sorry or glad,
And helped us find balm
when our spirits were sad;
It found us together in health and in peace,

And leaves us together tho' its own life must cease.
[Illustration]
"And so we will watch it fade softly from earth,
And welcome the
New Year to which God gives birth
And may the dear Lord who for
our sakes was born,
Send blessings anew on the New Year's glad
morn."
Now hark! for the bells in the old tower's steeple
Ring out with a
clang to the world and its people;
And merrily sounding afar and
anear,
Proclaim the glad tidings, "The New Year is here!"
And from other steeples the noise is resounding,
As jubilant bells the
same story are sounding;
And so 'mid the clanging, the poor old year
dies,
And the new youthful year opens wondering eyes
And so does the baby! So frightened is he,
His shrill cry rings out
with the bells' jubilee,
And quick to his side the young mother has
sped,
To bend o'er her baby's her own golden head
While Grandpa and Grandma are listening to hear,
'Mid the clanging
of bells, the young voice sweet and clear, Which tenderly lays on the
New Year the song
Of the dear "Old-time lullaby" cherished so long
So softly it floats thro' the shadowy gloom
Which tenderly broods
o'er the old fashioned room,
Where Grandma and Grandpa, while

steeple bells ring,
Again lift their tremulous voices and sing--
[Illustration: Musical score G major, text follows:]
"Hush, my babe, lie still and slumber, Holy
angels guard thy bed,
Heavenly .. blessings
without number Gently fall upon thy head."
[Illustration]
CRADLE HYMN.
By Isaac Watts, D.D.
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 God could be,

When from heaven He descended,
And became a child like thee!
Soft and easy is thy cradle:
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,
When
His birth-place was a stable,
And His softest bed was hay.
Blessed Babe! What glorious features,--
Spotless fair, divinely bright!

Must he dwell with brutal creatures?
How could angels bear the
sight?
Was there nothing but a manger,
Cursed sinners could afford,
To
receive the Heavenly Stranger?
Did they thus affront the Lord?
Soft, my child! I did not chide thee,
Though my song might sound too
hard;
'Tis thy mother sits beside thee,
And her arm shall be