That has stirred the heart of Miss Marion Ray:
A mother went out of the almshouse door,
Went out of it to go back no more;
Went out to be buried under the leaves,
While the wind of November moans and grieves,
And left a wee blossom with eyes of brown,
To the tender mercies of all the town.
Miss Marion has thought of the baby’s fate
Till love and pity have grown so great.
She has opened her Bible there to see: