The Orphan Wet With The Rain
If pity, sweet maid, ever dwelt in thy breast
Oh ! look with compassion on one thatís distressíd.
An orphan, alas ! no relations remain,
I am chillíd with the cold, I am wet with the rain.
From morning till evening I wander alone,
Unheeded by all though I plaintively moan,
But children of pleasure pass by in disdain,
Nor think on the orphan thatís wet with the rain.
My garments are tatteríd, my looks pale and wan,
Iím willing to labour, yet work I have none,
Iím sinking with hunger, no food I can gain;
Then pity an orphan thatís wet with the rain.
But God send relief to the orphans unknown,
For peace and contentment is a happy throne:
Then look with compassion, neíer look with disdain,
And think on the orphan thatís wet with the rain.