Is This Thy Kindness to Thy Friend?

Poor, weak, and worthless, though I am, I have a rich, almighty Friend; Jesus, the Saviour, is his name, He freely loves, and without end.

He ransom’d me from hell with blood, And by his power my foes control’d; He found me wand’ring far from God, And brought me to his chosen fold.

He cheers my heart, my want supplies, And says that I shall shortly be Enthroned with him above the skies: what a Friend is Christ to me!

But ah! my inmost spirit mourns, And well my eyes with tears may swim, To think of my perverse returns; I’ve been a faithless friend to him.

Often my gracious Friend I grieve, Neglect, distrust, and disobey; And often Satan’s lies believe Sooner than all my Friend can say.

He bids me always freely come, And promises whate’er I ask; But I am straiten’d, cold, and dumb, And count my privilege a task.

Before the world, that hates his cause, My treach’rous heart has throbb’d with shame; Loath to forego the world’s applause, I hardly dare avow his name.

Sure, were not I most vile and base, I could not thus my Friend requite! And were not he the God of grace He’d frown, and spurn me from his sight.