Through The Bleak And Dreary Street


Thro’ the bleak and dreary street,
Where the cold winds keenly blow,
See, a child with bare, chilled feet,
Wandering on ‘mid ice and snow;
Houseless, homeless, God’s own Word
Shall its precious comfort be,
As ye did it unto these,
Ye have done it unto Me.

In an attic cold and bare,
‘Mid the dropping of the rain,
See, a woman, gaunt and wan,
Stitch from morn till morn again,
Fainting, famished, Christian man,
Does not God appeal to thee,
As ye did it unto these,
Ye have done it unto Me

When you pass the orphan by,
With averted look of scorn;
While the lone one toils and sighs,
Faint and weak from morn to morn:
Think, there soon shall come a day,
When thy God shall say to thee,
As ye did it unto these,
Ye have done it unto Me.