O how can they look up to Heav’n,
And ask for mer­cy there,
Who ne­ver soothed the poor man’s pang,
Nor dried the or­phan’s tear?

The dread om­ni­po­tence of Heav’n
We ev­ery hour pro­voke;
Yet still the mer­cy of our God
Withholds the av­eng­ing stroke.

And Christ was still the heal­ing friend
Of po­ver­ty and pain;
And ne­ver did im­plor­ing soul
His gar­ment touch in vain.

May we with hum­ble ef­fort take
Example from above;
And thence the ac­tive les­son learn
Of cha­ri­ty and love!

But chief­ly be the la­bor ours
To shade the ear­ly plant;
To guard from ig­no­rance and guilt
The in­fan­cy of want;

To graft the vir­tues, ere the bud
The cank­er worm has gnawed,
And teach the res­cued child to lisp
Its gra­ti­tude to God.