For Ragged Schools

The poorest of the poor are we,
But precious are our souls to Thee,
Whom, though Thou art the Lord of all,
Our Heavenly Father we may call.

If meanly clad and sparely fed,
Give us this day our daily bread,
For all that live and move, and are,
In Providence, Thy bounty share.

To Thee, when the young ravens cry,
Thy hands their humble wants supply;
Alike on Thee, their unknown Friend,
The lion and the lamb depend.

Thine air, Thy sunshine, dews, and showers,
In season make the lily's flowers
More beautiful to look upon,
Than on his throne, King Solomon.

The widow, old and desolate;
The orphan in his low estate;
The slave, the outcast of mankind,
Thee their almighty Helper, find.

All times, and every where, Thine eye
Looks down upon us from the sky;
Could we look up by light divine,
Ours might be ever fix'd on Thine.

While every word we speak, Thine ear
Through all creation's sounds can hear,
By ours, if open'd to Thy Word,
Thy voice from heaven would here be heard.

Moment on moment, breath by breath,
Our pilgrim life draws nearer death:
Each breath, each moment, make us be
More meet for immortality.

O God, most merciful and just,
Shall we not put in Thee our trust?
In grief and pain, to calm our fears,
Comfort our hearts, and wipe our tears.