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Ann Taylor - The Orphan
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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.
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