1 Encourag'd by thy word
Of promise to the poor,
Behold a beggar, Lord,
Waits at thy mercy-door;
No hand, no heart, dear Lord but thine,
Can help, or pity wants like mine.

2 The beggar's usual plea,
Relief from men to gain,
If offer'd unto thee
I know thou wouldst disdain:
But those which move thy gracious ear,
Are such as men would scorn to hear.

3 I have no right to say
That tho' I now am poor,
Yet once there was a day
When I possessed more;
Thou knowest from my very birth
I've been the poorest wretch on earth.

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

5 Nor dare I to pretend
I never begg'd before,
And if thou now befriend,
I'll trouble thee no more;
Thou often hast reliev'd my pain,
And Imust often come again.

6 Tho' crumbs are much too good
For such a wretch as I,
No less that children's food
My soul can satisfy:
O do not frown and bid me go;
I must have all thou canst bestow.

7 Nor can I willing be
Thy bounties 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.

8 Thy ways, thou only wise,
Our thot's and ways transcend,
Far as the arched skies
Above this earth extend:
Such pleas as mine, men would not hear,
But God receives a beggar's prayer.