1 Blest is the man, whose breast can move,
And melt with pity to the poor,
Whose soul, by sympathizing love,
Feels what his fellow-saints endure.
2 His heart contrives for their relief.
More good than his own hands can do;
He in the time of general grief
Shall find the Lord has mercy too.
3 His soul shall live secure on earth,
With secret blessings on his head,
When drouth, and pestilence, and death,
Around him multiply their dead.
4 Or if he languish on his couch
God will pronounce his sins forgiven,
Will save him with a healing touch,
Or take his willing soul to heaven.
Source: Doctor Watts's Imitation of the Psalms of David (4th ed.) #74