In the night when the world sleeps deep,
The little ones wake, and silently weep;
No father’s voice, no mother’s embrace,
Just an empty echoe in a lonely place.
Their tears fall softly upon the ground,
Yet heaven above hears every sound;
For God bends from His throne above,
To gather each teardrop with His love.
Not one drop is lost, not one unseen,
Each drop preserved, each sorrow keen;
He bottles them all, gently, one by one,
The tears of a daughter, the grief of a son.
The world may pass ’em sans a care,
Too blind to notice the pain they bear;
Yet Heaven records what men ignore,
And keeps their sorrows in His store.
But woe be to hearts that coldly turn,
While orphaned eyes with sorrow burn;
For God remembers the love denied,
And hears the tears the helpless cried.
A curse may follow the hardened soul
Who mocks and withholds the whole;
For the Lord defends the child alone,
And claims their grief before His throne.
So pray, let us not pass the orphan by,
Nor leave ’em alone to weep and cry;
Let hands be open, let hearts be wide,
And draw the lonely ones to our side.
For they are precious in Heaven’s sight,
Like stars that glow in the darkest night;
Beautiful children, their parents gone,
Still cherished so dearly by God alone.
Give ‘em your kindness, your care,
A comforting word, a love to share;
Before their tears like thunder rise,
Plead their cause before the skies.
Let mercy bloom where sorrow has grown,
Let love replace the seeds we have sown;
Blessed are those who see their plight,
And bring to the orphan hope and light.
Composed by: A. Anato Swu
Satakha Town, Nagaland
