Whom Man Forsakes Thou Wilt Not Leave
Whom man forsakes thou wilt not leave,
Ready the outcasts to receive:
Though all my simpleness I own,
And all my faults to thee are known
Ah! wherefore did I ever doubt?
Thou wilt in nowise cast me out–
A helpless soul that comes to thee
With only sin and misery.
Lord, I am sick–my sickness cure;
I want–do thou enrich the poor:
Under thy mighty hand I stoop;
Oh, lift the abject sinner up.
Lord, I am blind–be thou my sight;
Lord, I am weak–be thou my might:
A helper of the helpless be,
And let me find my all in thee.