The Great Physician

How lost was my condition,Till Jesus made me whole;There is but one PhysicianCan cure a sin-sick soul;Next door to death he found me,And snatch'd me from the grave,To tell to all around meHis wondrous power to save.

The worst of all diseasesIs 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.