AXVI. The Physician

1 How lost was my condition,
Till Jesus made me whole;
There is but one Physician
Can cure a sin-sick soul.
Next door to death he found me,
And snatch'd me from the grave
To tell to all around me,
His wond'rous pow'r to save.

2 The worst of all diseases
Is light compar'd with sin;
On every part it seizes,
But rages most within:
'Tis palsy, plague, and fever,
And madness all combin'd;
And none but a believer
The least relief can find.

3 From men great skill professing,
I thought a cure to gain;
But this prov'd more distressing,
And added to my pain:
Some said that nothing ail'd me,
Some gave me up for lost;
Thus ev'ry refuge fail'd me,
And all my hopes were cross'd.

4 At length this great Physician,
How matchless is his grace;
Accepted my petition,
And undertook my case;
First gave me sight to view him,
For sin my eyes had seal'd;
Then bid me look unto him,
I look'd, and I was heal'd.

5 A dying, risen Jesus,
Seen by the eye of faith
From ev'ry danger frees us,
And saves the soul from death,
Come then to this physician,
His help he'll freely give;
He makes no hard condition,
'Tis only look, and live.

Text Information
First Line: How lost was my condition
Title: The Physician
Language: English
Publication Date: 1802
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