Yes! old and young together,
A restless, moaning heap;
O God! while they thus are sleeping,
How dare Thy children sleep?
Does the night air make you shiver,
As the stream sweeps coldly by?
(Cold as the hearts of the heedless),
Here, too, do the children lie.
An archway their only shelter;
The pavement their nightly bed;
Thou, too, when on earth, dear Saviour,
Hadst nowhere to lay Thy head.
So we know Thou art here, dear Master,
Thy form we can almost see;
Do we tear Thy sad voice saying,
"Ye did it not to Me?"
Yes, chill is the wind-swept archway,
The pavement is cold and hard
Better the workhouse coffin,
Softer the graveyard sward.
Thank God! yet we say it weeping,
Thank God for many a grave!
There sleep the little children
Whom Christians would not save!
Yet smiles through our tears are dawning
When we think of the hope that lies
In our children's Land of Promise,
'Neath the clear Canadian skies.
Though the frost he thick on the windows,
Though the roof with snow is white,
We know our Canadian children
Are safe and warm to-night.
There thick are the homespun blankets,
And the buffalo robes are warm;
Then why should these children shiver
Out here in the winter storm?
Why wait till the prison claims them?
Why wait till of hope bereft
For that fair young girl the river
Be the only refuge left?