My own sweet child, O soul all pure and fair!
Pray, pray with me where holy feet have trod,
And let thy sinless pleading on the air
Mount like a perfume upwards to thy God!
For the poor mother who her son doth weep
A last farewell in tears that rain like blood,
Let thy prayer, angel, mount the starry steep—
Mount like a perfume upwards to thy God!
For the poor orphan, who in dire distress
Alone by fireless hearth hath famished stood,