Old-Line Primitive Baptist Hymn and Tune Book

318 (H.M.) John Newton

Encouraged by Thy word

Of promise to the poor,

Behold a beggar, Lord,

Waits at Thy mercy's door;

No hand, no heart, dear 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 wouldst disdain:

But those 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 knowest 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 should deserve.

'Twere folly to pretend

I never begged before,

And if Thou now befriend,

I'll trouble Thee no more;

Thou often hast relieved my pain,

And often must I come again.

Though crumbs are much too good

For such a dog as I,

No less than children's food

My soul can satisfy:

Oh, 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 this earth extend:

Such pleas as mine, men would not hear,

But God receives a beggar's prayer.