Sweet baby, sleep; what ails my dear?
What ails my darling thus to cry?
Be still, my child, and lend thine ear
To hear me sing thy lullaby.
My pretty lamb, forbear to weep;
Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep.

Whilst thus thy lullaby I sing,
For thee great blessings ripening be;
Thine eldest brother is a king,
And hath a kingdom bought for thee.
Sweet baby, then, forebear to weep,
Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep.

A little infant once was he,
And strength in weakness then was laid
Upon his virgin mother’s knee,
That power to thee might be conveyed.
Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;
Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep.

The wants that He did then sustain
Have purchased wealth, my babe, for thee,
And by His torments and His pain
Thy rest and ease securèd be.
Sweet baby, then, forbear to weep;
Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep.

Words: George Wither (1588-1667)
Music: Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872 – 1958)