1 Like the sigh of the breeze thro’ the desolate trees,
When the branches are withered and bare,
Comes a cry to the ear, full of sorrow and fear,
From the hearts almost crushed with despair.

Refrain:
Inasmuch as ye did it to one of the least,
Inasmuch as ye heeded the plea,
Will the Master who cares for the lowest and least,
Sweetly say, ye have done it to me.

2 There are neighbors who grieve, whom a word might relieve,
Just a word of compassion and cheer;
There are wearisome loads, borne along rugged roads,
You might lift, if you’d only draw near. [Refrain]

3 There are children who call, cold and hungry and small,
Go and help them in tenderest love;
Bring a smile of delight to the faces so white,
And the Lord will reward you above. [Refrain]