The Hand That Rocks The Cradle  

Infancy's the tender fountain,
Power may with beauty flow,
Mother's first to guide the streamlets,
From them souls unresting grow --
Grow on for the good or evil,
Sunshine streamed or evil hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Woman, how divine your mission
Here upon our natal sod!
Keep, oh keep the young heart open
Always to the breath of God!
All true trophies of the ages
Are from mother-love impearled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.

Blessings on the hand of women!
Fathers, sons and daughters cry
And the sacred song mingled
With the worship in the sky,
Mingles where no tempest darkens,
Rainbows ever more are hurled;
For the hand that rocks the cradle
Is the hand that rules the world.