2 How often have I seen
The healing waters move,
And others, round me, stepping in,
Their efficacy prove!
3 But my complaints remain:
I feel the very same;
As full of guilt and fear and pain
As when at first I came.
4 would the Lord appear
My malady to heal;
He knows how long I've languish'd here,
And what distress I feel.
5 How often have I thought,
Why should I longer lie?
Surely the mercy I have sought
Is not for such as I?
6 But whether can I go?
There is no other pool
Where streams of sovereign virtue flow
To make a sinner whole.
7 Here, then, from day to day,
I'll wait and hope and try;
Can Jesus hear a sinner pray,
Yet suffer him to die!
8 No: he is full of grace;
He never will permit
A soul that fain would see his face
To perish at his feet.
113.
Another.
1 Here at Bethesda's pool, the poor,
The wither'd, halt, and blind,
With waiting hearts expect a cure,
And free admittance find.
2 Here streams of wondrous virtue flow,
To heal the sin-sick soul,—
