Poor in spirit,
Mourning, weeping on the way;
Yours a kingdom to inherit,
God shall wipe your tears away.
O pure hearted
And who make and live for peace;
You from God shall ne’er be parted,
Nor from you his favor cease.
Meek and lowly,
You from strife and rage afar;
Earth is yours and heav’n so holy,
You shall shine where angels are.
For the righteousness you love;
Lo for you the Fount is bursting,
And the feast awaits above.
In the smile of God you rest;
Mercy from on high receiving,
Blessed now and ever blest.
Rev. W. Wye Smith/W.F. Sherwin