COPY O[F] VERSES
BY A [PAR]TY OF
Poor Op[e]ratives
When nature, in t[he] voice of pain,
Speaks of want [an]d woe,
The voice is heard [b]ut heard in vain,
As our misfortu[nes] show.
For many weeks w[e] work have sought,
But work we ca[n]not procure;
Sad distress has be[en] our lot,
To go from door [t]o door
How does the wre[tch]ed parent feel,
When children w[a]it for bread?
How keen the pain of sorrow then,
They surely mus[t] be fed.
Look! then, to us i[n] our distress,
Nor think us mu[c]h to blame;
In God alone we p[u]t our trust,
For poverty is n[o] shame.
May want upon yo[u] never frown,
Nor in your dwelling come;
May Heaven pour its blessing down
On every friendly soul.
Lord Jesus, thou hast shed thy blood
For thousands such as me;
Many despise the poor tradesman's lot,
But to Thy Cross I flee.
A BLESSING. - May the blessings of God await thee;
may the bright sun of glory shine above thy bed; may the gates of plenty,
honor and happiness be ever open to thee; may no sorrow distress thy
days and when the dim curtain of death is closing around thy last
sleep, and the lamp of life extinguishing, may it not receive one rude
blast to hasten its extinction.
The bearers are a party of unemployed tradesmen, and this is to
certify that we are, with many others, compelled to throw ourselves at
the feet of the humane and sympathizing public, until an opportunity
offers whereby we can recommence work at the revival of trade. This
being the state of things, we offer these few simple verses to your notice
for sale, hoping at the same time they will meet your kind favor, as it is
the only means at present to support the slender thread of our existence,
and keep us and our families from utter starvation, which at present
threatens us.
Please hand this to the lady or gentleman. We will call to-morrow.
