CLXXXVIII. Phisician of Souls

1 Deep are the wounds which sin hath made
Where shall the sinner find a cure?
In vain, alas, is nature's aid,
The work exceeds all nature's power.

2 Sin like a raging fever, reigns,
With fatal strength in every part;
The dire contagion fills the veins,
And spreads its poison to the heart.

3 And can no sovereign balm be found?
And is no kind phisician nigh
To ease the pain, and heal the wound,
Ere life and hope for ever fly?

4 There is a great phisician near,
Look up, O fainting soul, and live;
See, in his heavenly smiles appear
Such ease as nature cannot give!

5 See in the Savior's dying blood
Life, health, and bliss, abundant flow!
'Tis only this dear, sacred flood
Can ease thy pain and heal thy woe.

6 Sin throws in vain its pointed dart,
For here a sovereign Cure is found;
A cordial for a fainting heart,
A balm for every painful wound.

Text Information
First Line: Deep are the wounds which sin has made
Title: Phisician of Souls
Author: Steele
Meter: L. M.
Language: English
Publication Date: 1792
Scripture:
Topic: Characters and Representations of Christ: Physician of Souls; Christ: Physician of the soul
Tune Information
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