The storm was loud; a murky cloud
O'erhung the midnight sky,
And rude the blast that wildly passed
A lonely orphan by;
But ruder still the bitter thrill
Of woe that rent his heart;
Darker his fears, sadder the tears
That evermore would start.

"Bleak is the storm, and on my form
The winds in fury beat;
A racking pain, torments my brain,
And sore these weary feet;
No ray of light illumes the night,
And here, alas! I roam,
Where tempests howl and wild beasts growl;
Oh, that I had a home!

"Full many a day has rolled away
Since I have laid me down,
To cease to weep, and fall asleep,
Save on the cold, damp ground;
And many more may pass me o'er
Ere I may cease to roam;
One year ago it was not so,—
For then I had a home!

"Then on his child a father smiled,
And fondly me caressed;
When sorrow came, or bitter pain,
I leaned upon his breast;
He'd kiss my cheek, and kindly speak
In soft and soothing tone;
Oh, what a strange and dreary change—
For then I had a home!

"When evening gray shut out the day,
Beside my mother's knee,
With simple air I breathed the prayer
That mother taught to me;
Then laid me down, not on the ground,
Not on this cold, damp stone;
But on my bed, love made instead,—
For then I had a home!

"The livelong day I spent in play
Around our peaceful cot,
Or plucked the flowers from blooming bowers,
And to my mother brought.
Then bliss and joy without alloy,
And love around me shone;
Then hope could rest within my breast—
For then I had a home!

"My father died, and by his side
My darling mother sleeps;
And now their child in anguish wild
Wanders around and weeps!
The pleasant cot my father bought
A stranger calls his own;
With tearful face I left the place,
For it was not my home!

"No home have I, no shelter nigh,
And none my grief to share;
But I've a Friend, to him I'll bend,
And he will grant my prayer.
He'll lend an ear for he can hear,
Though high his mighty throne;
My steps he'll guide, and he'll provide
The orphan with a home!

"Dark grows the sky, my lips are dry,
And cold my aching brow;
Is this a dream?—for, lo! I seem
To see my mother now!
Faint grows my breath, the arm's of death
Are surely round me thrown;
Oh, what a light breaks on my sight!
There, there's the orphan's home!"

With smiling face in death's embrace
The orphan calmly slept;
He heard no more the tempest's roar;
No more the orphan wept.
No longer pain might rack his brain,
No longer might he roam,
The dearly loved he'd met above,
And found with them a home!