1 Blest is the man whose breast can move,
And melt with pity to the poor;
Whose soul, by sympathizing love,
Feels what his fellow saints endure.

2 His heart contrives for their relief
More good than his own hands can do;
He in the time of gen'ral grief
Shall find the Lord has mercy too.

3 His soul shall live secure on earth,
With secret blessings on his head,
When drought and pestilence and dearth,
Around him multiply their dead.

4 Or if he languish on his couch,
God will pronounce his sins forgiv’n,
Will save him with a healing touch,
Or take his willing soul to heavn.