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The Orphan

 My father and mother are dead, 
Nor friend, nor relation I know; 
And now the cold earth is their bed, 
And daisies will over them grow.
I cast my eyes into the tomb, The sight made me bitterly cry; I said, "And is this the dark room, Where my father and mother must lie?" I cast my eyes round me again, In hopes some protector to see; Alas! but the search was in vain, For none had compassion on me.
I cast my eyes up to the sky, I groan'd, though I said not a word; Yet GOD was not deaf to my cry, The Friend of the fatherless heard.
For since I have trusted his care, And learn'd on his word to depend, He has kept me from every snare, And been my best Father and Friend.

by Jane Taylor
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