Swedish Prayer (Hymn)

Children of the heav’nly Father

Safely in His bosom gather;

Nestling bird nor star in Heaven

Such a refuge e’er was given.

God His own doth tend and nourish;

In His holy courts they flourish;

From all evil things He spares them;

In His mighty arms He bears them.

 Neither life nor death shall ever

From the Lord His children sever;

Unto them His grace He showeth,

And their sorrows all He knoweth.

Though He giveth or He taketh,

God His children ne’er forsaketh;

His the loving purpose solely

To preserve them pure and holy.

Lo, their very hairs He numbers,

And no daily care encumbers

Them that share His ev’ry blessing

And His help in woes distressing.

Praise the Lord in joyful numbers:

Your Protector never slumbers.

At the will of your Defender

Ev’ry foeman must surrender.

https://lyricstranslate.com/en/tryggare-kan-ingen-vara-children-heavenly-father.htm

Irish

Over in Killarney,many years ago
My mother sang a song to me
in tones so sweet and low
Just a simple little ditty
in her good old Irish way
And I'd give the world if she could sing
that song to me this day

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby.

Oft in dreams I wander
to that cot again.
I feel her arms a-hugging me
As when she held me then.
And I hear her voice a-hummin'
to me as in the days of yore,
when she used to rock me fast asleep
outside the cabin door.

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby.

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