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|Riches, Ranching & Railroads|
Reader: Bob Nylen"Many a weary day went by,
While wretched and worn he begged for bread;
Tired of life, and longing to lie
Peacefully down with the silent dead.
Hunger and cold, and scorn and pain,
Had wasted his form and seared his brain;
At last, on a bed of frozen ground,
In the 'Sierra Nevada' was the outcast found.
No mourner lingered with tears or sighs,
But the stars looked down with pitying eyes;
And the chill winds passed, with a wailing sound,
O'er the foot of the mountain where the form was found
But One! when every human door
Is closed to children, accursed and poor;
Who opens the heavenly portals wide--
Ah! God was near when the outcast died."
Nevada State Museum