As the swaying steeple totters,
Slowly totters, to its fall.
One there was that did not heed it,
One there was that did not stir,
Till too late! The blazing rafters
In their fall enveloped her.
Child of want and heir of sorrow,
Chill and famished, weak and faint,
Thou hast passed from out the shadow;
Thou no more art desolate.