Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.@Matthew 25:40

Mrs. L. G. McVean, in the Heathen Woman’s Friend (Boston, Massachusetts: Methodist Episcopal Church Woman’s Foreign Missionary Society, Volume XI, May 1880), page 242.

Fanny Birdsall, 1899 (🔊 pdf nwc).

What if your own were starving,
Fainting with famine, pain;
And you should know where golden grow,
Rich fruits and ripened grain;
Would you hear their wail as a thrice-told tale,
And turn to your feast again?

Refrain

They are Christ’s own, they are your own,
Soon will their hopes be flown,
Rescue them ere they’re gone.

What if your own were thirsting,
And never a drop would gain,
And you could tell where a sparkling well
Poured forth melodious rain;
Would you turn aside while they gasped and died,
And leave them to their pain?

Refrain

What if your own were darkened,
Without one cheering ray,
And you alone could show where shone
The pure, sweet light of day;
Would you leave them there in their dark despair,
And sing on your sunlit way?

Refrain

What if your own were prisoned,
Far in a hostile land,
And the only key to set them free,
Was held at your command;
Would you breathe free air while they stifled there,
And wait and fold your hands?

Refrain