1 Lord, hear a restless wretch’s groans;
To thee my soul in secret moans:
My body’s weak, my heart’s unclean;
I pine with sickness and with sin.
2 My strength decays, my spirits droop;
Bowed down with guilt, I can’t look up;
I lose my life, I lose my soul,
Except thy mercy make me whole.
3 Sin’s rankling sores my soul corrode;
O heal them with thy balmy blood!
And, if thou dost my health restore,
Lord, let me ne’er offend thee more.
4 Or, if I never more must rise,
But death’s cold hand must close my eyes,
Pardon my sins, and take me home;
O come, Lord Jesus, quickly come!
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Lord, hear a restless wretch's groans |
Title: | Sickness |
Author: | Hart |
Meter: | L. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1844 |