Healing, Spiritual

Verse 1

At even, ere the sun was set,
The sick, O Lord, around Thee lay;
O in what divers pains they met!
O with what joy they went away!

Verse 2

Once more ’tis eventide, and we,
Oppressed with various ills, draw near:
What if Thy form we cannot see?
We know and feel that Thou art here.

Verse 3

O Saviour Christ, our woes dispel:
For some are sick, and some are sad,
And some have never loved Thee well,
And some have lost the love they had;

Verse 4

And none, O Lord, have perfect rest,
For none are wholly free from sin;
And they who fain would serve Thee best
Are conscious most of wrong within.

Verse 5

O Saviour Christ, Thou too art Man,
Thou hast been troubled, tempted, tried;
Thy kind but searching glance can scan
The very wounds that shame would hide;

Verse 6

Thy touch has still its ancient power;
No word from Thee can fruitless fall:
Hear in this solemn evening hour,
And in Thy mercy heal us all.

Verse 1

At even, ere the sun was set,
The sick, O Lord, around Thee lay;
O in what divers pains they met!
O with what joy they went away!

Verse 2

Once more ’tis eventide, and we,
Oppressed with various ills, draw near:
What if Thy form we cannot see?
We know and feel that Thou art here.

Verse 3

O Saviour Christ, our woes dispel:
For some are sick, and some are sad,
And some have never loved Thee well,
And some have lost the love they had;

Verse 4

And none, O Lord, have perfect rest,
For none are wholly free from sin;
And they who fain would serve Thee best
Are conscious most of wrong within.

Verse 5

O Saviour Christ, Thou too art Man,
Thou hast been troubled, tempted, tried;
Thy kind but searching glance can scan
The very wounds that shame would hide;

Verse 6

Thy touch has still its ancient power;
No word from Thee can fruitless fall:
Hear in this solemn evening hour,
And in Thy mercy heal us all.

Verse 1

O where is He that trod the sea,
O where is He that spake,
And demons from their victims flee,
The dead their slumbers break:
The palsied rise in freedom strong,
The dumb men talk and sing,
And from blind eyes, benighted long,
Bright beams of morning spring?

Verse 2

O where is He that trod the sea,
O where is He that spake,
And piercing words of liberty
The deaf ears open shake;
And mildest words arrest the haste
Of fever’s deadly fire,
And strong ones heal the weak who waste
Their life in sad desire?

Verse 3

O where is He that trod the sea,
O where is He that spake,
And dark waves rolling heavily
A glassy smoothness take;
And lepers, whose own flesh has been
A solitary grave,
See with amaze that they are clean,
And cry, “’Tis He can save”?

Verse 4

O where is He that trod the sea?
’Tis only He can save;
To thousands hungering wearily
A wondrous meal He gave;
Full soon, celestially fed,
Their rustic fare they take;
’Twas springtide when He blest the bread,
And harvest when He brake.

Verse 5

O where is He that trod the sea?
My soul, the Lord is here;
Let all thy fears be hushed in thee,
To leap, to look, to hear.
Be thine: thy needs He’ll satisfy,
Art thou diseased or dumb,
Or dost thou in thine hunger cry?
”I come,” saith Christ, “I come.”

Verse 1

Thine arm, O Lord, in days of old
Was strong to heal and save;
It triumphed o’er disease and death,
O’er darkness and the grave.
To Thee they went, the blind, the dumb,
The palsied and the lame,
The leper with his tainted life,
The sick with fevered frame.

Verse 2

And lo, Thy touch brought life and health,
Gave speech, and strength, and sight;
And youth renewed and frenzy calmed
Owned Thee, the Lord of light:
And now, O Lord, be near to bless,
Almighty as of yore,
In crowded street, by restless couch,
As by Gennesareth’s shore.

Verse 3

Though Love and Might no longer heal
By touch, or word, or look;
Though they who do Thy work must read
Thy laws in nature’s book;
Yet come to heal the sick man’s soul,
Come, cleanse the leprous taint;
Give joy and peace where all is strife,
And strength where all is faint.

Verse 4

Be Thou our great Deliverer still,
Thou Lord of life and death;
Restore and quicken, soothe and bless
With Thine almighty breath:
To hands that work and eyes that see
Give wisdom’s heavenly lore,
That whole and sick, and weak and strong,
May praise Thee evermore.