Classic Poem

I wonder now does God look down
Upon the town,
And what He's thinking when He sees
The people swarming there like bees;
The alleys and the dirty lanes,
The moidher of the trams and trains;
The stately carriages galore
And then the poor,
Who traipis in the bitter sleet,
With broken boots upon their feet,
I wonder what He thinks at night,
When angels set the stars alight,
And in the town the lamps are bright.
Does He watch gaming rascals cheat,
Old drunken villyains curse and fight,
While girls, grown shameless, walk the streets?
Always God hears the cherubim
Sing praise to Him.
But where He's sitting on his throne
Can He hear starving women moan?
Above the harping of each saint
Are little childher's voices faint?
Can He in all the music hear
Them sob for fear?
On dirty pavements babies sprawl,
With them to mind them scarce less small,
It's sure God hears the cries of these,
And all the oaths and blasphemies
Of thim that's never on their knees.
He hears the drunkards shout and bawl
Above the angels' melodies —
I wonder what God thinks at all?

I wonder now does God look down
Upon the town,
And what He's thinking when He sees
The people swarming there like bees;
The alleys and the dirty lanes,
The moidher of the trams and trains;
The stately carriages galore,
And then the poor,
Who traipis in the bitter sleet,
With broken boots upon their feet.
I wonder what He thinks at night,
When angels set the stars alight,
And in the town the lamps are bright.
Does He watch gaming rascals cheat,
Old drunken villyains curse and fight,
While girls, grown shameless, walk the street?

Always God hears the Cherubim
Sing praise to Him.
But where He's sitting on His throne
Can He hear starving women moan?
Above the harping of each saint
Are little childher's voices faint?
Can He in all the music hear
Them sob for fear?
On dirty pavements babies sprawl,
With them to mind them scarce less small.
It's sure God hears the cries of these,
And all the oaths and blasphemies
Of thim that's never on their knees.
He hears the drunkards shout and bawl
Above the angels' melodies —
I wonder what God thinks at all?