Now comes along the highway a dusty tramp forlorn,
A tattered coat conceals beneath a bent and aged form,
With hardened weary visage, a bell he faintly rings;
The air is rent with pitying notes, an angel softly sings.

Upon this frozen nature no love for years has shown;
His life is made of cruel words, and knows no kindly tone;
And could you see into his past, as mother clasped her boy,
He then was innocent and fair--her pride, her hope, her joy.

She never dreamed her darling child a weary tramp would be,
For o'er his tasks or youthful sports he laughed in childish glee;
Perhaps he sinned, but, O! forget, for suffering must repay,
And someone's boy has now become wretched, old and gray.

Within a large and gilded hall a revel wild is held,
The sound of oaths and laughter loud upon the breezes swell;
A man is seen with bloated face come reeling to the streets;
He turns his fierce and lurid eyes as friends he loudly greets.

Some mother's boy has fallen low, we hear the broken sob
Of angels who have watched for years his footsteps turn from God.
Someone's prayers have oft been made o'er him in childhood's day,
When, rocked in love, he knew no wrong, a smiling infant lay.

Some mother's tears have freely flowed, and lonely vigils kept;
Some mother's heart has often bled while others coldly slept;
Some mother suffers for the wrong, and angels sadly weep
Whene'er some careless, wayward son has sown what he must reap.