I lay in sorrow, deep distressed;

My grief a proud man heard;

His looks were cold, he gave me gold,

But not a kindly word.

My sorrow passed I paid him back

The gold he gave to me;

Then stood erect and spoke my thanks 

And blessed his charity.

I lay in want and grief and pain;

A poor man passed my way;

He bound my head, he gave me bread,

He watched me night and day.

How shall I pay him back again

For all he did to me?

Oh, gold is great, but greater far

Is heavenly sympathy.