1 At evening, when the sun had set,
the sick, O Lord, around you lay:
in such distress and pain they met,
but with what joy they went away!
2 Once more the evening falls, and we
oppressed with many ills, draw near,
and though your form we cannot see,
we know and feel that you are here.
3 O Saviour Christ, our cares dispel,
for some are sick, and some are sad,
and some have never loved you well,
and some have lost the love they had,
4 and all desire your perfect rest,
for none is wholly free from sin,
and those who long to serve you best
are most aware of wrong within.
5 O Saviour Christ, O Son of Man,
you have been troubled, tempted, tried;
your kind but searching glance can scan
the very wounds that shame would hide.
6 Your touch has still its ancient power;
no word from you can fruitless fall:
hear us, touch us in this hour,
and in your mercy heal us all.
Source: The Book of Praise #824