When the great missionary William Carey lay dying, someone asked him, "If this illness takes your life, what Scripture should we preach at your funeral?"

His answer? "Oh, I feel that such a poor, sinful creature is unworthy to have anything said about him. But if you must preach a sermon, let it be from these words: 'Have mercy upon me, O God, according to your lovingkindness; according to the multitude of your tender mercies, blot out my transgressions.'"

In that same humble spirit, he left instructions for his gravestone. Just his name, his dates, and these words: "A wretched, poor, and helpless worm, on thy kind arms I fall."

Think about that! Here was a man who had translated the Bible into multiple languages, who had sparked a missionary movement that would reach the world. And at the end? He wanted to be remembered as someone who needed mercy.

Because only on the footing of free grace can any of us approach God. The most experienced saints, the most honored servants—they know better than anyone that they are, at their very best, still just men. Empty boats float high on the water, but heavily laden vessels sit low. Mere professors can boast all day long. But true children of God? They cry out for mercy upon their unprofitableness!

We need the Lord to have mercy on our good works. Our prayers. Our preachings. Our alms-givings. Even our holiest things need his mercy! Remember—the blood wasn't just sprinkled on the doorposts of ordinary houses in Israel. It was sprinkled on the sanctuary itself, on the mercy-seat, on the altar. Why? Because sin intrudes into even our holiest things, and the blood of Jesus is needed to purify them from defilement.

And if mercy is needed for our duties, what shall be said of our sins?

How sweet the remembrance that inexhaustible mercy is waiting to be gracious to us! Waiting to restore our backslidings! Waiting to make our broken bones rejoice!