Lo! woman calls, in accents wild,
On thee to save her famish'd child;
Herself the image of despair,
Consum'd with grief, and wan with care.

Oh! listen to her mournful cry,
Nor turn away the pitying eye;
The orphan rescue from the grave,
The mother and her offspring save.

Fair daughters of our happy soil!
Not doom'd to unrequited toil,
Your ready alms and pray'rs bestow,
In pity of your sister's woe.