When the Saviour Dwelt Below

When the Saviour dwelt below, Pity in His bosom reigned; Sympathy He loved to show, Nor the meanest suit disdained.

Round Him throng'd the blind, the lame, Deaf and dumb, dieseas'd, possess'd; None in vain for healing came, All the Saviour freely bless'd.

He could make the leper whole; Thousands at a meal He fed; Winds and waves could He control; By a word He rais'd the dead.

List'ning sinners round Him pressed Whilst He taught the way to bliss; Even enemies confess'd, "No man ever spake like this."

Be Thy love to me reveal'd, Be Thy grace by me possess'd; Touch me, and I shall be heal'd; Bless me, and I shall be bless'd.