When Jo­seph his breth­ren beheld,
Afflicted and trem­bling with fear;
His heart with com­passion was filled,
From weep­ing he could not for­bear.
Awhile his be­hav­ior was rough,
To bring their past sin to their mind;
But when they were hum­bled enough,
He hast­ed to show him­self kind.

How lit­tle they thought it was he,
Whom they had ill treat­ed and sold!
How great their con­fu­sion must be,
As soon as his name he had told!
I’m Joseph, your bro­ther, he said,
And still to my heart you are dear;
You sold me, and thought I was dead,
But God, for your sakes, sent me here.

Though great­ly dis­tress­èd before,
When charged with pur­loin­ing the cup;
They now were con­found­ed much more,
Not one of them dared to look up.
Can Joseph, whom we would have slain,
Forgive us the ev­il we did?
And will he our house­holds main­tain?
O this is a bro­ther indeed!

Thus dragged by my con­science, I came,
All la­den with guilt, to the Lord;
Surrounded with ter­ror and shame,
Unable to ut­ter a word.
At first He looked stern and se­vere,
What ang­uish then pierc­èd my heart!
Expecting each mo­ment to hear
The sen­tence, Thou curs­èd, de­part!

But O! what sur­prise when He spoke,
While ten­der­ness beamed in His face;
My heart then to piec­es was broke,
O’erwhelmed and con­found­ed by grace:
“Poor sin­ner, I know thee full well,
By thee I was sold and was slain;
I died to re­deem thee from hell,
And raise thee in glo­ry to reign.

“I am Je­sus, whom thou hast blas­phemed,
And cru­ci­fied oft­en afresh;
But let Me hence­forth be es­teemed,
Thy bro­ther, thy bone, and thy flesh:
My par­don I free­ly be­stow,
Thy wants I will ful­ly sup­ply;
I’ll guide thee and guard thee be­low,
And soon will re­move thee on high.

Go, pub­lish to sin­ners around,
That they may be will­ing to come,
The mer­cy which now you have found,
And tell them that yet there is room.
O, sin­ners, the mes­sage ob­ey!
No more vain ex­cus­es pre­tend;
But come, with­out fur­ther de­lay,
To Je­sus, our bro­ther and friend.