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The air around is ringing with their laughter—

God has only made the rich to smile;

But we—in our rags, and want, and woe—we follow after,

Weeping the while.

And the laughter seems but uttered to deride us.

When—oh! when

Will fall the frozen barriers that divide us

From other men?

Will ignorance for ever thus enslave us?

Will misery for ever lay us low?

All are eager with their insults, but to save us,

None, none, we know

We never knew a childhood's mirth and gladness,

Nor the proud heart of youth, free and brave;

Oh! a deathlike dream of wretchedness and sadness,

Is life's weary journey to the grave.

Day by day we lower sink and lower,

Till the Godlike soul within,

Falls crushed, beneath the fearful demon power

Of poverty and sin.

So we toil on, on with fever burning

In heart and brain;

So we toil on, on through bitter scorning,

Want, woe, and pain:

We dare not raise our eyes to the blue heaven,

Or the toil must cease—

We date not breathe the fresh air God has given