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