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 snatched me from the grave, To tell to all around me, His wondrous pow’r 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 thought a cure to gain; But this proved more distressing, And added to my pain: Some said that nothing ailed me, Some gave me up for lost; Thus every refuge failed me, And all my hopes were crossed. | 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 my eyes had sealed; Then bid me look unto him, I looked, and I was healed. | A dying, risen Jesus, Seen by the eye of faith; At once from danger frees us, And saves the soul from death: Come then to this Physician, His help he’ll freely give; He makes no hard condition, ’Tis only—look and live. | |