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1 Preserve me, Lord, in time of need,
For succour to thy throne I flee,
But have no merits there to plead;
My goodness cannot reach to thee.
2 Oft have my heart and tongue confest
How empty and how poor I am;
My praise can never make thee blest,
Nor add new glories to thy name.
3 Yet, Lord, thy saints on earth may reap
Some profit by the good we do;
These are the company I keep,
These are the choicest friends I know.
4 Let others choose the sons of mirth
To give a relish to their wine?
I love the men of heav'nly birth,
Whose thoughts and language are divine.
| Text Information | |
|---|---|
| First Line: | Preserve me Lord in time of need |
| Title: | Confession of our Poverty; and, Saints the best Company; or, Good Works profit Men, not God |
| Meter: | Long Metre |
| Language: | English |
| Publication Date: | 1793 |
| Scripture: | |
| Notes: | Now Public Domain. First Part |
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