1 The arrowy sleet, and winter wind,
That beat against our latchèd door,
With plaintive voices call to mind
The wants and sorrows of the poor.

2 Can we enjoy our Christmas home,
Its cheerful fire, and table spread,
Yet lightly think of those that roam
Without, unsheltered and unfed?

3 We all need kindness: who shall say
But he may come at last to crave
Relief along the rugged way,
That leads through trouble to the grave?

4 Then love the poor; and ope your hand,
Not grudgingly but with good will,
And suffer not the needy band
To stand unhelped and shivering still.

5 For ’tis a blessèd thing indeed,
Which not e’en monarchs should despise,
When men of wealth and goodness read
Their history in the poor man’s eyes.

6 Now change the view; and who shall dare
To treat with insult or neglect
Those whom the Lord hath made His care,
And whom He surely will protect?

7 Turn to the words of sacred lore,
And mark how fully they disclose
His will, who careth for the poor,
And taketh vengeance on their foes.

8 See what a hedge He hath supplied,
And made the sufferers’ cause His own,
Lest fierceness, or the foot of pride,
Should hurt the poor, or cast them down.

9 Hath He not sent His only Son
To share and thus to sanctify
A state that need bring shame to none,
The state of lowly poverty?

10 Yes, Christ endured the shame and loss;
And His cold home at Bethlehem,
The mountains bare, the painful cross,
May teach the poor He cared for them.

11 Foxes had holes, the bird its nest;
But while each creature found a bed,
The Savior had no place of rest,
Whereon to lay His weary head.

12 O honor then your Maker’s name;
And love the poor, lest ye be found
Reproaching Him who poor became,
That ye in riches might abound.