Pass me not, O gentle Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.
Savior, Savior,
Hear my humble cry;
While on others Thou art calling,
Do not pass me by.
Let me at Thy throne of mercy
Find a sweet relief;
Kneeling there in deep contrition,
Help my unbelief.
Trusting only in Thy merit,
Would I seek Thy face;
Heal my wounded, broken spirit,
Save me by Thy grace.
Public domain hymn text (published 1868). Words by Fanny J. Crosby.
The Story Behind the Hymn
Fanny Crosby wrote this hymn's text at the specific request of William Doane, a wealthy businessman and amateur composer who collaborated with her on dozens of hymns over the course of a long working partnership, frequently bringing her a tune he had already written and asking her to supply words that would fit it — the same working method the two of them used repeatedly throughout their years of collaboration.
Doane asked Crosby specifically for a hymn built around the biblical account of blind Bartimaeus, found in Mark 10:46-52, who sat begging by the roadside near Jericho and cried out loudly for Jesus's attention even as members of the crowd around him tried to hush him into silence, telling him not to bother the passing rabbi. Bartimaeus refused to be quieted, crying out only more insistently until Jesus stopped, called for him, and restored his sight.
Crosby, blind herself since infancy, identified closely and personally with Bartimaeus's situation — not primarily with his physical blindness, which she had lived with her entire life without apparent bitterness, but with his persistence: his refusal to let the disapproval of the crowd around him silence his direct, urgent request simply to be seen and heard by someone who could actually help him. She often spoke of this parallel in her own devotional writing, describing a kinship with a biblical figure whose defining trait, in her reading of the story, was not his blindness itself but his refusal to stay quiet about his need.
The hymn's repeated, almost desperate plea not to be passed over reflects a theme that runs through a significant portion of Crosby's larger body of work: not confident triumph, but the exposed vulnerability of simply asking not to be overlooked — a request drawn, quite plainly, from her own decades of lived experience of frequently being overlooked, in the most literal physical sense, by a sighted world moving past her.
