Poor, weak and worthless though I am
I have a rich almighty friend;
Jesus, the Savior, is His name;
He freely loves, and without end.
He ransomed me from hell with blood,
And by His power my foes controlled;
He found me, wandering far from God,
And brought me to His chosen fold.
He cheers my heart, my wants supplies,
And says that I shall shortly be
Enthroned with Him above the skies;
Oh! what a friend is Christ to me.
But, ah! my inmost spirit mourns,
And well my eyes with tears may swim,
To think of my perverse returns:
I’ve been a faithless friend to Him.
Often my gracious friend I grieve,
Neglect, distrust, and disobey;
And often Satan’s lies believe,
Sooner than all my friend can say.
He bids me always freely come,
And promises whate’er I ask:
But I am straitened, cold and dumb,
And count my privilege a task.
Before the world that hates His course,
My treacherous heart has throbbed with shame;
Loath to forego the world’s applause,
I hardly dare avow His name.
Sure, were I not most vile and base,
I could not thus my friend requite!
And were not He the God of grace,
He’d frown and spurn me from His sight.