A star was His nightlight,
His quilt was the sky,
and soft sang His Mother,
In case He should cry.

And all the brown cattle
came close to His bed
To see the wee Baby
asleep in their shed.

Softly sing, softly sing, softly sing.

His carols were praises
of love and good will
That rose in the midnight,
so calm and so still,

To herald the earliest
Christmas we know,
When Jesus was little,
a long while ago.

Softly sing, softly sing, softly sing.