Chapter I

Parent to those, whose infant days
No human parent know;
To thee, O Charity! the praise
Of filial love shall flow.

Base want, and vice, a foe to all!
Round us their snares had thrown.
Had not thy arm, at pity's call,
Embrac'd us for thine own.

O blest the land! where all to Thee
A tender homage pay!
Where indigence and wealth agree
To venerate thy sway!

That land the wrath of Heaven may spare.
When ruthless nations groan;
Her guarded orphan's grateful prayer
May rise to mercy's throne.

Parent to those, whose infant days
No human parent know;
To Thee, O Charity, the praise
Of filial love shall flow.