The Beggar

I

  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.

II

  The beggar’s usual plea,
  Relief from men to gain,
  If offer’d unto thee,
  I know thou wouldst disdain;
And pleas which move thy gracious ear
Are such as men would scorn to hear.

III

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

IV

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

V

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

VI

  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!

VII

  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.

VIII

  Thy thoughts, thou Only Wise,
  Our thoughts and ways transcend,
  Far as the arched skies
  Above the earth extend:
Such pleas as mine men would not bear,
But God receives a beggar’s pray’r.