How soft the words my Saviour speaks,

How soft the words my Saviour speaks,
How kind the promises he makes!
A bruisèd reed he never breaks,
Nor will he quench the smoking flax.

The humble poor he'll not despise,
Nor on the contrite sinner frown;
His ear is open to their cries,
And quickly sends salvation down.

He sees the struggles that prevail
Between the powers of grace and sin,
He kindly listens while they tell
The bitter pangs they feel within.

Though pressed with fears on every side,
They know not how the strife may end;
Yet he will soon the cause decide,
And judgment unto victory send.