310 Not worthy, Lord, to gather up the crumbs

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 devils and the scorn of men. 4 And is not mercy Thy prerogative - Free mercy, boundless, fathomless, divine? Me, Lord, the chief of sinners, me forgive, And Thine the greater glory, only Thine. 5 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. 6 My praise can only breathe itself in prayer. My prayer can only lose itself in Thee; Dwell Thou for ever in my heart, and there, Lord, let me sup with Thee; sup Thou with me.