1 How lost was my condition,
Till Jesus made me whole!
There is but one Physician
Can cure a sin-sick soul!--
The worst of all diseases
Is light, compared with sin;
On every part it seizes,
But rages most within:

2 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.

3 At length this great Physician--
How matchless is His grace!--
Accepted my petition,
And undertook my case:
Next door to death He found me,
And snatched me from the grave,
To tell to all around me
His wondrous power to save.

4 A dying, risen Jesus,
Seen y 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.