CI.
[Love Divine, the' afflicted see]
Love Divine, the' afflicted see,
Moved with our infirmity,
Once Thyself a Man of grief,
Hasten, Lord, to our relief.
Mindful of Thy suffering days,
Now as then replete with grace,
Good Physician, bow the skies,
Come before our infant dies.
Present in Thy balmy power,
Thou canst suddenly restore,
By a word the dying save;
Speak, and snatch him from the grave.
Touching this we both agree,
If Thy blessed will it be,
Now the burning fever chide,
Turn the dart of death aside.
If Thou dost our sorrows share,
Children in Thy bosom bear,
Help an innocent oppress'd,
Give to Thy beloved rest.
While we yet invoke Thy name,
Quench the life-devouring flame;
While we a sad vigil keep,
Grant him in Thy arms to sleep.
Thou his feebleness sustain,
Pity, and assuage his pain,
Thou whose tender mercies are
Kinder than a father's care.
Listening to his plaintive moan,
Make his every grief Thine own,
Thou whose yearning bowels move
Softer than a mother's love.
Need we then prescribe to Thee
Clothed with our humanity,
Succour with impatience crave,
Urge Salvation's self to save?
No: we have our suit made known;
Now let all Thy will be done:
Do whate'er Thy Spirit requests,
Do whate'er Thy heart suggests.
