Blest Are the Humble Souls That See

Blest are the hum­ble souls that see

Their emp­ti­ness and po­ver­ty;

Treasures of grace to them are giv’n

And crowns of joy laid up in Heav’n.

Blest are the men of brok­en heart

Who mourn for sin with in­ward smart;

The blood of Christ di­vine­ly flows

A heal­ing balm for all their woes.

Blest are the meek

who stand afar

From rage and pass­ion

noise and war;

God will se­cure their hap­py state

And plead their cause against the great.

Blest are the souls that thirst for grace

Hunger and long for right­eous­ness;

They shall be well sup­plied

and fed

With liv­ing streams and liv­ing bread.

Blest are the men whose bow­els move

And melt with sym­pa­thy and love;

From Christ the Lord they shall ob­tain

Like sym­pa­thy and love again.

Blest are the pure

whose hearts are clean

From the de­fil­ing pow­ers of sin;

With end­less plea­sure they shall see

A God of spot­less pur­ity.

Blest are the men of peace­ful life

Who quench the coals of grow­ing strife;

They shall be called the heirs of bliss

The sons of God

the God of peace.

Blest are the suf­fer­ers who par­take

Of pain and shame for Je­sus’ sake;

Their souls shall tri­umph in the Lord;

Glory and joy are their re­ward.