A child was dead in the town,
Son of a sick woman and a poor man.
The woman being sick gave only her love,
And what can the poor man give!
A child was dead in the town.

In the house of our pity
The woman kept for her child.
But we, being wise, whispered apart,
" Seeing that the man is poor, and the woman sick,
It is well that the child is dead. "

She, of her courtesy, asked us to look at her child,
But I could not enter the poor room,
I could not face its Dead.
My heart accused my lips and cried,
" No child should die. "

O, you! Who are strong in the town,
Mighty to build, mighty to shield the weak,
Join with us that we may say,
Under God's grace, and of our good care,
No child shall die.