An Orphan, I was lonely left,
No kindred lived to cheer;
Of every friendly hand bereft,
To wipe the Orphan’s tear.
But now Misfortune’s clouds are past,
No wanderer now I roam;
My wearied feet I rest at last,—
The Orphan’s found a home.
‘Twas not the wealthy weighed my grief,
They felt not as I’ve done;
The proffer’d hand which gave relief,
Was stretched by misery’s son.
The lonely cottage on yon cliff,
Dashed by the Ocean’s foam;
Has dried the wanderer’s tear-worn cheek,
‘Tis now the Orphan’s home.
No more I’ll leave this happy spot,
Where he was wont to dwell;
Who gave to me his land, his cot,
Then took a last farewell.
The lily now is blooming gay,
With which I’ll deck the tomb
Of him, whom heav’n has sent this way
To bless me with a home.