The Orphan

MY father and mother are dead,

Nor friend, nor relation I know;

And now the cold earth is their bed,

And daisies will over them grow.

I cast my eyes into the tomb,

The sight made me bitterly cry;

I said, "And is this the dark room,

Where my father and mother must lie?" I cast my eyes round me again,

In hopes some protector to see;

Alas! but the search was in vain,

For none had compassion on me.

I cast my eyes up to the sky,

I groan'd, though I said not a word;

Yet

OD was not deaf to my cry,

The Friend of the fatherless heard.

For since I have trusted his care,

And learn'd on his word to depend,

He has kept me from every snare,

And been my best Father and Friend.