Made of wood, lined in a row, hit me soft and watch me glow. Rainbow notes from low to high, a hammer makes me cry. What am I?

I come from the sea but end up on your fries, with pepper beside me, I’m a seasoning prize.

Has a sharp and shining edge, Yet never cuts a hedge. Clears a path across your face, And leaves a smooth and clean place. Though keen and very thin, It dances across your stubbly chin

I have no voice, yet I sing when swept, I have a hollow chest where notes are kept. Four thin strings across my heart are bound, A horse’s hair brings forth my sweetest sound. I rest beneath a chin, elegant and slender, Capable of tunes both sharp and tender.

In the hush of night, where dreams do flow, Soft as a kitten, gentle as snow. A head's nightly rest, like clouds in the sky, you cradle us by and by.