Out in the Cold

Out in the Cold

With blue cold hands and stockingless feet,
Wandered a child in the cheerless street,
Children we e many, who housed and fed,
Lovingly neastled, dreaming in bed,
Carroled their joy in a land of bliss
Without a thought or care of this,
They were warm in humanity's fold,
But this little child was out in the cold—

Out in the cold.

Bleak blew the wind thro' the cheerless street,
Dashing along the merciless sleet.
All furred and shawled, man, woman, and child,
Hurried along for the storm grew wild,
They could not bear the icicles blast,
Winter so rude on their pathway cast,
Alas, none pittied—no one consoled
This little wanderer out in the cold—

Out in the cold.

She had no father—she had no mother;
Sister none, and never a brother,
They had passed on to the star-worlds above,
She remained here with nothing but love.
"Nothing but love"—ah! men did not know
What wealth of joy that child could bestow,
So they went by and worshipped their gold,
Leaving the little one out in the cold—

Out in the cold.

Wandered she on till the shades of the night
Veiled her shivering form from sight.
Then with her cold hands over her breast,
She prayed to her Father in Heaven for rest.
When hours had fled, 'neath the world's dark frown,
Hungered and chilled she laid herself down—
Laid down to rest, whlie the wealth rolled,
In carriages passed her out in the cold—

Out in the cold.

Out in the cold, lo! an angel form
Bro't her white robes that were rich and warm.
Out in the cold, on the sleeping child,
The sainted face of a mother smiled,
A sister pressed on her brow a kiss,
Let her 'mid scenes of heavenly bliss;
And angels gathered into their fold
That night, the little one out of the cold—

Out in the cold.

Unattributed

1:12, p. 4

10.19.1861