Mercy, O Thou Son of Da­vid!
Thus blind Bar­ti­me­us prayed;
Others by Thy word are sav­èd,
Now to me af­ford Thine aid;
Many for his cries re­buked him,
But he called the loud­er still;
Till the gra­cious Sav­ior bid him,
Come, and ask Me what you will.

Money was not what he wanted,
Though by beg­ging used to live;
But he asked, and Je­sus granted
Alms, which none but He could give:
Lord, re­move this griev­ous blind­ness,
Let my eyes be­hold the day;
Strait he saw, and won by kind­ness,
Followed Je­sus in the way.

O! me­thinks I hear him prais­ing,
Publishing to all around,
Friends, is not my case am­az­ing?
What a Sav­ior I have found:
O! that all the blind but knew Him,
And would be ad­vised by me!
Surely, would they hast­en to Him,
He would cause them all to see.