Hospitals

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

Here, Lord, we offer Thee all that is fairest,
Bloom from the garden, and flowers from the field;
Gifts for the stricken ones, knowing Thou carest
More for the love than the wealth that we yield.

Verse 2

Send, Lord, by these to the sick and the dying,
Speak to their hearts with a message of peace;
Comfort the sad, who in weakness are lying,
Grant the departing a gentle release.

Verse 3

Raise, Lord, to health again those who have sickened,
Fair be their lives as the roses in bloom;
Give of Thy grace to the souls Thou hast quickened,
Gladness for sorrow, and brightness for gloom.

Verse 4

We, Lord, like flowers, must bloom and must wither;
We, like these blossoms, must fade and must die;
Gather us, Lord, to Thy bosom for ever,
Grant us a place in Thy house in the sky.

Verse 1

O Thou through suffering perfect made,
On whom the bitter cross was laid,
In hours of sickness, grief, and pain,
No sufferer turns to Thee in vain.

Verse 2

The halt, the maimed, the sick, the blind,
Sought not in vain Thy tendance kind;
Now in Thy poor Thyself we see,
And minister through them to Thee.

Verse 3

O loving Saviour, Thou canst cure
The pains and woes Thou didst endure,
For all who need, Physician great,
Thy healing balm we supplicate.

Verse 4

But, O far more, let each keen pain
And hour of woe be heavenly gain,
Each stroke of Thy chastising rod
Bring back the wanderer nearer God.

Verse 5

O heal the bruised heart within;
O save our souls all sick with sin;
Give life and health in bounteous store,
That we may praise Thee evermore.

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.

Verse 1

Thou Lord of life, our saving Health,
Who mak’st Thy suffering ones our care,
Our gifts are still our truest wealth,
To serve Thee our sincerest prayer.

Verse 2

As on the river’s rising tide
Flow strength and coolness from the sea,
So through the ways our hands provide
May quickening life flow in from Thee.

Verse 3

To heal the wound, to still the pain,
And strength to failing pulses bring,
Till the lame feet shall leap again,
And the parched lips with gladness sing.

Verse 4

Bless Thou the gifts our hands have brought;
Bless Thou the work our hearts have planned;
Ours is the hope, the will, the thought;
The rest, O God, is in Thy hand.