Poor and afflicted, Lord, are Thine,
Among the great unfit to shine;
But tho' the world may think it strange,
They would not with the world exchange.
Poor and afflicted, yet they trust
In God, the gracious, wise, and just;
For them He deigns this lot to choose,
Nor would they dare His will refuse.

Poor and afflicted oft they are,
So hard oppressed with want and care,
Yet He who saves them by His blood
Makes ev'ry sorrow yield them good.
Poor and afflicted, yet they sing,
For Christ, the glor'ous conq'ring King,
Thru suff'rings perfect, reigns on high,
And does their ev'ry need supply.

And while they walk the thorny way,
They're often heard to sigh and say,
“Dear Savior, come, O quickly come,
And take Thy mourning pilgrims home.”
Poor and afflicted, yet ere long
They'll join the bright celestial throng,
And all their suff'rings then shall close,
And heav'n afford them sweet repose.

Poor and afflicted, still in Thee
Our wealth of riches all will be;
For Thou art all our righteousness,
And will the poor and needy bless.
Poor and afflicted, Christ, our friend,
Our first great Cause and last great End!
How sweet to know that we will be
With Christ in all eternity!