1 Poor, weak, and worthless though I am,
I have a rich almighty friend;
Jesus, the Saviour, is His name,
He freely loves, and without end.
2 He ransom'd me from hell with blood,
And, by His power, my foes controll'd;
He found me wand'ring far from God,
And brought me to His chosen fold.
3 But, ah! my inmost spirit mourns;
And well my eyes with tears may swim,
To think of my perverse returns:
I’ve been a faithless friend to Him.
4 Often my gracious Friend I grieve,
Neglect, distrust, and disobey;
And often Satan’s lies believe
Sooner than all my Friend can say.
5 Sure, were I not most vile and base,
I could not thus my Friend requite!
And were not He the God of grace,
He'd frown and spurn me from his sight.
Source: Book of Worship (Rev. ed.) #422