The Great Physician

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 wondrous power to save.

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

From men great skill professing,
I sought a cure to gain;
But this proved more distressing,
And added to my pain.
Some said that nothing ail'd me,
Some gave me up for lost;
Thus every refuge failed me,
And all my hopes were cross'd.

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 mine eyes had seal'd,
Then bade me look unto him;
I look'd—and I was heal'd.