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1 Deep are the wounds which sin hath made;
Where shall the sinner find a cure?
In vain, alas! in nature's aid;
The work exceeds all nature's power.
2 Sin, like a raging fever, reigns
With fatal strength in every part;
The dire contagion fills the veins,
And spreads its poison to the heart.
3 And can no sovereign balm be found?
And is no kind Physician nigh,
To ease the pain and heal the wound,
Ere life and hope forever fly?
4 There is a great Physician near;
Look up. O fainting soul, and live:
See, in his heavenly smiles appear
Such ease as nature cannot give!
5 See, in the Saviour's dying blood,
Life, health, and bliss. abundant flow;
'Tis only this dear sacred flood
Can ease thy pain and heal thy wo.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Deep are the wounds which sin has made |
Meter: | L. M. |
Publication Date: | 1828 |
Scripture: | |
Topic: | Names and Characters of Christ: Physician; Physician of Souls |