1 Lord, pity outcasts, vile and base,
The poor dependants on thy grace,
Whom men disturbers call;
By sinners and by saints withstood;
For these too bad, for those too good;
Condemned or shunned by all.

2 Though faithful Abraham us reject,
And though his ransomed race elect
Agree to give us up,
Thou art our Father, and thy name
From everlasting is the same;
On that we build our hope.