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John Newton - The Importunate Widow
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Our Lord, who knows full well
The heart of every saint;
Invites us, by a parable,
To pray and never faint. 

He bows his gracious ear,
We never plead in vain;
Yet we must wait, till he appear,
And pray, and pray again. 

Though unbelief suggest,
Why should we longer wait?
He bids us never give him rest,
But be importunate. 

`Twas thus a widow poor,
Without support or friend,
Beset the unjust judge`s door,
And gained, at last, her end. 

For her he little cared,
As little for the laws;
Nor God, nor man, did he regard,
Yet he espoused her cause. 

She urged him day and night,
Would no denial take;
At length he said, I`ll do her right,
For my own quiet sake. 

And shall not Jesus hear
His chosen, when they cry?
Yes, though he may awhile forbear,
He`ll help them from on high. 

His nature, truth and love,
Engage him on their side;
When they are grieved, his bowels move,
And can they be denied? 
 
Then let us earnest be,
And never faint in prayer;
He loves our importunity,
And makes our cause his care.
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