Ye Have Done It unto Me

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.