1 Not worthy, Lord, to gather up the crumbs
With trembling hand, that from thy table fall,
A weary, heavy laden sinner comes
To plead thy promise and obey thy call.

2 I am not worthy to be thought thy child,
Nor sit the last and lowest at thy board;
Too long a wanderer, and too oft beguiled,
I only ask one reconciling word.

3 One word from thee, my lord! one smile, one look.
And I could face the cold, rough world again,
And with that treasure in my heart could brook
The wrath of Satan and the scorn of men.

4 I hear thy voice; thou bidst me come and rest;
I come, I kneel, I clasp thy pierced feet;
Thou bidst me take my place, a welcome guest,
Among thy saints, and of thy banquet eat.