1 How soft the words my Saviour speaks,
How kind the promises he makes!
A bruisèd reed he never breaks,
Nor will he quench the smoking flax.
2 The humble poor he’ll not despise,
Nor on the contrite sinner frown;
His ear is open to their cries,
And quickly sends salvation down.
3 He sees the struggles that prevail
Between the powers of grace and sin,
He kindly listens while they tell
The bitter pangs they feel within.
4 Though pressed with fears on every side,
They know not how the strife may end;
Yet he will soon the cause decide,
And judgment unto victory send.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | How soft the words my Saviour speaks |
Meter: | L. M> |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1844 |
Copyright: | Isaiah 42:3 |