HARK, how the rain is pouring 

Hark, how the north winds blow! 

Think of the poor, poor children 

Who have nowhere to go, 

But crouch in sheltered corners 

To keep from wind and rain. 

Do you thank God, dear little ones, 

That you know not such pain? 

Then think of them with pity, 

And try what you can do 

To make the poor, poor children 

Both warm and happy too. 

Mary E. Genie