Shall walls have pity and man’s heart have none?
Shall walls protect and man refuse to aid?
At Christmas, when our children are arrayed
In furs, shall orphans crouch behind a stone
To hide them from the storm? Is there not one
Will see the outstretched hand of that frail maid,
To whom the baby brother clings, afraid?
Will no ear heed when hunger makes its moan?
No father’s arm about their forms is thrown
To shield them from distress, no mother’s love
Draws them within the shelter of her breast.
Those tender souls must front the world alone;
But, if Christ came not vainly from above,
Some noble heart will aid them, thus distressed.