"Cast thy bread upon the waters, for thou shall find it after many days."—Ecel. xi; 1.

Hark! hear the cry of Erin's sons,
By plague and famine frantic;
The wail of wives and little ones
Comes o'er the broad Atlantic.
O, heed the bitter piercing cry,
That's pealing o'er the ocean;
To us, to us, for aid they fly,
As Israel fled to Goshen.
List! hear that sad and mournful sound,
It is the parent sighing;
Beside him, on the damp cold ground.
His darling ones are lying.
A nation sinking to the grave;
How thick death's shafts are flying!
The loved, the lovely, and the brave,
From want are daily dying.
They're calling to Columbia's sons,
And to her happy daughters;
Take of your bread, ye favor'd ones,
And cast it on the waters.