We have no parent but our God;
Yet will we not in grief despair;
For He this vale of sorrow trod,
To make the desolate his care.
The voice of innocence and youth,
To Thee, meek Saviour! may ascend;
Thou God of Tenderness, and Truth,
Of Infancy Thou art the Friend.
Thro! tears, that fill the orphan's eye,
With humble confidence we see
Calamity, an holy tie!
That binds our helpless tribe to Thee.
We have no parent, but our God;
In Him we trust, who reigns above:
Children He blest, when here He trod,
And we are children of his love.