The little boy lost in the lonely fen. Led by the wand'ring light, Began to cry; but God, ever nigh, appear'd like his father, in white. He kissed the child, and by the hand led, to his mother brought, who in sorrow pale, thro' the lonely dale, her little boy weeping sought.

Can I see another's woe,

And not be in sorrow too?

Can I see another's grief,

And not seek for kind relief?

Can I see a falling tear,

And not feel my sorrow's share?

Can a father see his child Weep?

Nor be with sorrow fill'd?

Can a mother sit and hear

An infant groan, an infant fear?