7s & 6s. The Good Samaritan. Luke x. 30.

1 WOE is me! what tongue can tell
My sad afflicted state,
Who my anguish can reveal,
Or all my woes relate?
Fallen among thieves I am,
And they have robbed me of my God,
Turned my glory into shame,
And left me in my blood.

2 O thou good Samaritan!
In thee is all my hope;
Only thou canst succour man,
And raise the fallen up:
Hearken to my dying cry;
My wounds compassionately see;
Me, a sinner, pass not by,
Who gasp for help from thee.

3 Still thou journeyest where I am,
Still thy compassions move;
Pity is with thee the same,
And all thy heart is love;
Stoop to a poor sinner, stoop,
And let thy healing grace abound,
Heal my bruises, and bind up
My spirit's every wound.

4 Saviour of my soul draw nigh,
In mercy haste to me,
At the point of death I lie,
And cannot come to thee;
Now thy kind relief afford,
The wine and oil of grace pour in;
Good Physician, speak the word,
And heal my soul of sin.

5 Pity to my dying cries
Hath drawn thee from above,
Hovering over me, with eyes
Of tenderness and love,
Now, even now, I see thy face;
The balm of Gilead I receive;
Thou hast saved me by thy grace,
And bade the sinner live.

6 Surely now the bitterness
Of second death is past;
O my Life, my Righteousness,
On thee my soul is cast!
Thou hast brought me to thine inn,
And I am of thy promise sure;
Thou shalt cleanse me from all sin,
And all my sickness cure.

7 Perfect then the work begun,
And make the sinner whole;
All thy will on me be done,
My body, spirit, soul;
Still preserve me safe from harms,
And kindly for thy patient care,
Take me, Jesus, to thine arms,
And keep me ever there.