788. L. M. Mrs. Nichols. Anniversary of an Orphan Asylum.
1 Our Father! we may lisp that name,
When lowly at thy feet we bow;
Thy little children lightly blame,
For thou'rt our only parent now!
2 We are a stricken, humble band,
With hearts that thrill to words of love,
And cling confiding to the hand
That points us to a home above.
3 Though 'mong the lowly of the earth,
Contented with our homely fare,
How cheerful was the orphan's hearth
Before cold Death had entered there
4 No mother's voice soothes us to rest --
No father's smile our vision greets:
Yet we've a home in every breast
That with a tender feeling beats.
5 And thou hast raised us many a friend,
Not bound by ties of kindred blood;
Then let our hearts in prayer ascend
To thee, our Father -- Saviour -- God!