small (a lullaby)


Sleep, my child, sleep,
While the kings and queens of nations you do not know
Rage and squabble about issues that never cross your mind.
They are nothing but names to you, and the names hold no fear.
Would that I held them in the same esteem.

Sleep, my child, sleep,
While the thunder of public opinion roils around us,
In the eye of the storm, may you rest;
Your ballot cast for more cookies after dinner,
For the freedom to stay up late,
To run out into the chilly night and jump in leaf piles,
To go barefooting, squealing at the cold.
You see this world more clearly, because it is small and you are small.
Would that I remember I am small, and our world is small.

Sleep, my soul, sleep.
The setting of your story
Is to be where you are now.
Your God will call you forward
Through nights black and warfare grim,
Set your mind in the hammock of His will,
Rest your heart under blankets of peace.
Past understanding, pillow your hope.
In the night of mystery, find grace.
In the prayers of the saints, see long and wide and high and deep into history and into future,
And live.

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