The Orphan Wet With The Rain

If pity, sweet maid, ever dwelt in thy breast
Oh ! look with compassion on one that?s distress?d.
An orphan, alas ! no relations remain,
I am chill?d 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 that?s wet with the rain.

My garments are tatter?d, my looks pale and wan,
I?m willing to labour, yet work I have none,
I?m sinking with hunger, no food I can gain;
Then pity an orphan that?s wet with the rain.

But God send relief to the orphans unknown,
For peace and contentment is a happy throne:
Then look with compassion, ne?er look with disdain,
And think on the orphan that?s wet with the rain.

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