The widow and orphan my bounty shall share,
And all the afflicted partake of my care.
2.
Oh would I were happy! the sorrows and cares,
Which each new-born hour to my troubled heart bears,
Disgust me with all the gay pleasures of earth,
And weary me with its vain-glory and mirth;
If penance can wash out my guiltiness deep,
In sackcloth and ashes my crimes I will weep.
3.