No mother! well, the burning tears may flow
And bathe thy pillow, hapless orphan, now;
No mother's tender voice may soothe thy woe,
No mother's kiss is on thy aching brow.
Thou hearest footsteps passing by the door,
Oft hast thou heard thy mother's footsteps there;
But ah! she comes, unhappy boy, no more
To say "Good night" or hear thy evening prayer.
Weep on: there's none to wipe away thy tears,
There's none on earth thy mother's place to fill;
The night seems dark, but when the morn appears
Darkness and gloom will be around thee still.
For thou hast lost what time can ne'er restore,
What other friends, though kind, can never be;
She had bright visions of a better shore
But asked to live—it was alone for thee.
Kneel, wretched orphan, kneel beside thy bed;
Thy voice is choked, thy sobs have louder grown;
No mother's hand is lying on thy head,
No mother's heart is lifted with thy own.
But thou canst pray, and on the Saviour's breast,
Which feels for every grief and every care,
Pillow thy head and sweetly sink to rest,
A more than mother will protect thee there.