Going To Sleep

Little one, you must not fret That I take your clothes away; Better sleep you so will get, And at morning wake more gay- Saith the children's mother. You I must unclothe again, For you need a better dress; Too much worn are body and brain; You need everlastingness- Saith the heavenly father. I went down death's lonely stair; Laid my garments in the tomb; Dressed again one morning fair; Hastened up, and hied me home- Saith the elder brother. Then I will not be afraid Any ill can come to me; When 'tis time to go to bed, I will rise and go with thee- Saith the little brother.