Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Orphan
The Orphan.
Where shall the child of sorrow find
A place for calm repose?
Thou Father of the fatherless,
Pity the orphan's woes!
A place for calm repose?
Thou Father of the fatherless,
Pity the orphan's woes!
What friend have I in heaven or earth,
What friend to trust but Thee?
My father's dead—my mother's dead;
My God remember me!
What friend to trust but Thee?
My father's dead—my mother's dead;
My God remember me!
Thy gracious promise now fulfil,
And bid my trouble cease;
From Thee, the fatherless shall find
Pure mercy, grace, and peace.
And bid my trouble cease;
From Thee, the fatherless shall find
Pure mercy, grace, and peace.
No secret care have I or pain
But He that secret knows;
Thou Father of the fatherless,
Pity the orphan's woes.
But He that secret knows;
Thou Father of the fatherless,
Pity the orphan's woes.