That I would get wearied before my days ended,
And wish that I had not so early begun;
Sometimes he persuaded me that Jesus was partial,
When he was a-setting of poor sinners free,
That I was forgotten and was reprobated,
And there was no mercy at all for poor me.
But glory to Jesus, his love’s not confined,
To princes or men of a nobler degree;
His love it is boundless to all human creatures,
He died for poor sinners when nail’d to the tree.