Beggars

See! by that crazy hut they stand, 
     Poor outcasts—children of Distress,
Haply of Crime—a mournful band,
     Involved in want and wretchedness!

The tattered garment, patched and pinned—
     Quaint robe—it warms not, nor conceals;
Tossing their rags, the wanton wind
     Their bony nakedness reveals.

They shrink before the biting blast,
     They shiver in the frosty air,
And ever and anon they cast
     To Heaven a look of dumb despair.

And Heaven that look may heed—but see!
     The rich man in his chariot rolls
Pompously by, nor heedeth he
     The anguish of those stricken souls.

Covered with fur from head to heel,
     What cares he that the air is frozen?
Alack! the proud are slow to feel
     For outcasts, wretched and forlorn!

They pass the shivering wretches by,
     They thrust the needy from their door,
And look on Want with pitiless eye:
     Oh God! have mercy on the Poor!

They are our brothers—though forlorn
     And houseless through the world they go;
Our brothers—though the lip of Scorn
     With heartless jest derides their wo.

Our brothers—though by men abhorred—
     God’s ministers in mean disguise,
They bring a message from the Lord,
     Not vainly to the good and wise.

Despise them not! As ye regard
     The least who doth for kindness call,
So shall the MERCIFUL reward
     With good or ill, who judgeth all.

Oh, never from amidst the land
     Shall cease these children of Distress!
Then let us bring, with liberal hand
     Succor to all their wretchedness.

Subdue our selfishness and pride,
     And make our hearts, of Christ! like thine,
By deeds of mercy sanctified,
     And stirred by impulses divine!