She extends her hand to the poor, and reaches out her hand to the needy.

Have I not wept for the unfortunate? Was not my soul grieved for the poor?

If I have seen anyone about to perish for lack of clothing, or a poor man without a coat,

For you are a protector for the poor, a protector for the needy in their distress, a shelter from the rainstorm, a shade from the heat. Though the breath of tyrants is like a winter rainstorm,