Encouraged by Thy word
Of pro­mise to the poor;
Behold, a beg­gar, Lord,
Waits at Thy mer­cy’s door!
No hand, no heart, O Lord, but Thine,
Can help or pi­ty wants like mine.

The beg­gar’s usu­al plea
Relief from men to gain,
If offered unto Thee,
I know Thou would’st dis­dain:
And pleas which move Thy gra­cious ear,
Are such as men would scorn to hear.

I have no right to say
That though I now am poor,
Yet once there was a day
When I pos­sess­èd more:
Thou know’st that from my ve­ry birth,
I’ve been the poor­est wretch on earth.

Nor can I dare pro­fess,
As beg­gars often do,
Though great is my dis­tress,
My wants have been but few:
If Thou shouldst leave my soul to starve,
It would be what I well de­serve.

’Twere fol­ly to pre­tend
I ne­ver begged be­fore;
Or if Thou now be­friend,
I’ll trou­ble Thee no more:
Thou oft­en hast re­lieved my pain,
And oft­en I must come again.

Though crumbs are much too good
For such a dog as I;
No less than child­ren’s food
My soul can sa­tis­fy:
O do not frown and bid me go,
I must have all Thou canst be­stow.

Nor can I will­ing be
Thy boun­ty to con­ceal
From oth­ers, who like me,
Their wants and hun­ger feel:
I’ll tell them of Thy mer­cy’s store,
And try to send a thou­sand more.

Thy thoughts, Thou on­ly wise!
Our thoughts and ways trans­cend,
Far as the arch­èd skies
Above the earth ex­tend:
Such pleas as mine men would not bear,
But God re­ceives a beg­gar’s pray­er.