Jesus, my Lord, how rich Thy grace!
Thy bounties how complete!
How shall I count the matchless sum?
How pay the mighty debt?
High on a throne of radiant light
Dost Thou exalted shine;
What can my poverty bestow,
When all the worlds are Thine?
But Thou hast brethren here below,
The partners of Thy grace,
And wilt confess their humble names
Before Thy Father’s face.
In them Thou mayst be clothed and fed,
And visited and cheered,
And in their accents of distress
My Savior’s voice is heard.
Thy face, with reverence and with love,
I in Thy poor would see;
O rather let me beg my bread,
Than hold it back from Thee.