How few receive with cordial faith
The tidings which we bring!
How few have seen the arm reveal'd
Of Heaven's anointed King!

Rejected and despis'd of men,
Behold a man of woe!
Grief was His close companion still,
Through all His life below.

We held Him as condemn'd by Heav'n,
An outcast from His GOD,
While for our sins He groan'd, He bled,
Beneath the accursed load.

Yet, saith the Lord, my pleasure still,
Shall prosper in His hand;
His shall a num'rous offspring be,
And still His honour stand.

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