GOD of grace, in glory reigning,
Far above the eternal sky,
Hear the orphan's sad complaining,
See the widow's tearful eye.
Thou, all strength and power, possessing,
Health and comfort, canst impart,
Crown the orphan's cup, with blessing,
Fill with joy, the widow's heart.
Lord, they were thine own possession,
In that old Mosaic day,
When, to Judah's favoured nation,
Thus, thou bad'st, the prophet say;
"When the ripened harvest, brought in,
"Fills thy barns, with golden grain,
"Seek not thou, the sheaf forgotten;
"'Tis the homeless stranger's gain!
"When thine olive yields its treasure,
"Search not every bough, with care;
"God will give thee, fuller measure,
"If thou leave the orphan's share!
"When the land, with purple staining,
"Thou shalt bring thy vintage, in,
"Grudge not, then, the grapes remaining;
"Which the widow's hand may glean!"
Lord, whose mercy never changes,
Whose uprightness, still is sure,
Still the widow's cause avenges,
Helps the fatherless and poor,
Now, Thine Holy Ghost, outsending,
From Thy glorious throne, above;
Fill the hearts, before Thee bending,
With Thine own exulting love!