THE ORPHAN.

O, if I were a robin,
I'd soon be on the wing,
I'd leave my sighs and sobbin'
And sweetly I would sing;
And early in each morning
I'd fly from tree to tree;
And going and returning
What pretty things I'd see?

But now I am so lonely,
I know not where to stay,
My little brother only
Is with me day by day:
My mother dear was crying
When father lay so low:
When she herself was dying—
I know not what to do.

Our parents are in heaven,
Their spirits went above;
Their sins were all forgiven,
For they the Lord did love:
God call'd them to forsake us,
And laid them in the dust;
But he himself will take us,
If in his name we trust.

If Jesus will receive us
Within his precious fold;
And when he'll please to give us
Some pretty wings of gold;
Then soon we will be flying
Up to that blessed place,
Where there is no more crying,
So near his smiling face.