Blessings

 

Thy blessings have I counted, Lord;

forgive my insolence!

I own not measure, sense, not word

for such magnificence.

On weighted scales I judge my due

'gainst what Thy love ordains,

appraise my labors, laid to sue

f'r anticipated gains!

My ledgers swell with scarlet ink -

bitter, imagined want.

What vanity, that I dare think

to price Thy crimson font?

Have I not seen Thee save Thine own?

Nor heard my fathers' praise?

Nor from my mother's arms Thee known?

Nor loved Thy word and ways?

The kings of earth pass by in awe,

cry out in death's dismay,

led forth to scales of perfect law,

their lawless guilt to weigh,

behold the undeservèd love

which caused my soul to stand,

mercies which armies cannot move,

grace ne'er to understand.

My blessings have I counted, Lord,

and weep for dour shame.

One gift beggars ny soul t'afford:

to bear Thy precious Name.

Yet one by one my blessings mount,

swelling to skies unseen,

while I despair, delight to count

each mercy in-between!

~

AMDG