My Wife and Child

Henry R. Jackson (1820–1898)

THE TATTOO beats,—the lights are gone,

The camp around in slumber lies,

The night with solemn pace moves on,

The shadows thicken o’er the skies;

But sleep my weary eyes hath flown,

And sad, uneasy thoughts arise.

I think of thee, O darling one,

Whose love my early life hath blest—

Of thee and him—our baby son—

Who slumbers on thy gentle breast.

God of the tender, frail, and lone,

O, guard the tender sleeper’s rest!

And hover gently, hover near

To her whose watchful eye is wet,—

To mother, wife,—the doubly dear,

In whose young heart have freshly met

Two streams of love so deep and clear,

And cheer her drooping spirits yet.

Now, while she kneels before thy throne,

O, teach her, Ruler of the skies,

That, while by thy behest alone

Earth’s mightiest powers fall and rise,

No tear is wept to thee unknown,

No hair is lost, no sparrow dies!

That thou canst stay the ruthless hands

Of dark disease, and soothe its pain;

That only by thy stern commands

The battle ’s lost, the soldier ’s slain;

That from the distant sea or land

Thou bring’st the wanderer home again.

And when upon her pillow lone

Her tear-wet cheek is sadly pressed,

May happier visions beam upon

The brightened current of her breast,

No frowning look or angry tone

Disturb the Sabbath of her rest!

Whatever fate these forms may show,

Loved with a passion almost wild,

By day, by night, in joy or woe,

By fears oppressed, or hopes beguiled,

From every danger, every foe,

O God, protect my wife and child!