I Stand at Mercy’s Door

I stand at mer­cy’s door

O Lord

look on me now

A beg­gar knocks

ex­ceed­ing poor

And none can help but Thou.

Through sin

born dark I was

Nor car­èd for the light

All know­ledge of Thy truth and grace

Was ban­ished from my sight.

Exceeding lame be­side

A crip­ple from my birth

And need a crutch

as well a guide

To help my an­kles forth.

A rag­ged soul I am

My breast and shoul­ders bare

And no­thing left to hide my shame

But fig leaves here and there.

With sore dis­ease I smart

From pain am sel­dom free

It is the ev­il in my heart

My fa­ther gave it me.

Lord

I have told my case

Well known to Thee be­fore

Let Je­sus show His love­ly face

And heal up ev­ery sore.

Mine eyes with salve an­oint

That I may see Thy light;

And strength­en ev­ery tot­ter­ing joint

That I may walk up­right.

My nak­ed soul ar­ray

In Thy own right­eous­ness;

And let Thy pre­cious blood con­vey

The pledge of heav’n­ly peace.

My evil

Thou dost know

Torments my bo­som much

But let the King of Is­ra­el show

He cures it with a touch.

Some man­na al­so bring

To feast my pil­grim days

And Thou shalt hear a beg­gar sing

And shout forth Je­sus’ praise.