Little David

The mother of the little boy that sleeps Has blest assurance, even as she weeps: She knows her little boy has now no pain— No further ache, in body, heart or brain; All sorrow is lulled for him—all distress Passed into utter peace and restfulness.— All health that heretofore has been denied— All happiness, all hope, and all beside Of childish longing, now he clasps and keeps In voiceless joy—the little boy that sleeps.