Christian Songs, Song LXXX

We who need mercy every hour, And by compassions stand, Should shew that mercy to the poor Which Jesus doth command:

2 In evidence that we have fled For mercy to his blood; To bow'ls of grace, which flow in the Compassions of our God.

3 Think what your need of mercy was, When all your merit vain You saw,—and all mere loss and dung; How sweet was mercy then?

4 Show forth a sense of all that grace; Regard the widow's plaint: With mercy meet the hunger-starv'd, Whose faces speak their want.

5 Christ in his members asks your alms; Speaks in his brethren's cries: The widow's wail his language is; And orphans sigh his sighs.

6 The lonely widow, desolate, With chearfulness, relieve; The fatherless commiserate; Bread to the hungry give.

7 See! how the husbandman his seed With lib'ral hand doth sow, In hope of gladning harvest, when His barns with wealth shall flow;

8 So, we a glorious harvest hope: Sow sparingly no more;— We hope to reap eternal life, A never failing store!