Page 320 - bethel-primitive-baptist-hymns

CONFLICT.
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.
2 The beggar’s usual plea,
Relief from men to gain,
If offered unto thee,
I know thou wouldst disdain ;
And pleas which move thy gracious ear,
Are such as men would scorn to hear.
3 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.
4 Nor can I dare profess,
As beggars often do,
Though great is my distress,
My wants have been but few.
If thou should’st leave my soul to starve,
It would be what I well deserve.
5 ’Twere folly to pretend
I never begged before,
Or if thou’lt now befriend,
I’ll trouble thee no more :
Thou often hast relieved my pain,
And often I must come again.
6 Though crumbs are much too good
For such a dog as I,
No less than children’s food,
My soul can satisfy.
0 do not frown and bid me go;
I must have all thou canst bestow.
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