“As ye did it to Mine, ye did it to Me;”
And so, on the morn of Thanksgiving Day
In the early morn, when the sky is gray,
At the almshouse door a carriage stands,
With shining horses in gleaming bands;
And into the eyes of the little child,
The sad-eyed lady looked and smiled.
On the silken shoulder the glittering head,
Then—“I love ’oo, lady,” the baby said,
Gathered close to the hungry heart,