A beggar once the Saviour found,God made to him all grace abound;He had no home, no wealth, no greed --But only his dire need to plead.
So I was bound by poverty,And dead in spirit could not seeThe mercy and the grace of God:His Law was but a Threatening Rod.
To come to Jesus I had no power --My helpless state revealed that hour --I turned to every wind and creed,Seeking help for my soul's deep need.
Sinai's dark and thundering voiceCondemned this sinner with great noise."Where can I turn?" aloud I cried,But knew not Him, the Crucified.
At last effectual, sovereign graceRevealed the One who took my place,The only Advocate for me.His blood became my perfect plea.
'Twas then Jehovah justifiedBy the precious blood of Him who died --At last I saw the truth of graceWhen reduced at last to the sinner's place.
If you would know the love of God,The merit of a Saviour's blood,You must first find at awful costWhat it means to be totally lost.
Wylie W. Fulton