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.