CLIV.
[Jesus, the fame Of Thy great name]
Jesus, the fame Of Thy great name
My sin-sick soul allures:
Still in every age the same,
I hear, its virtue cures.
With humble fear I now draw near
In my forlorn condition,
Thy balsamic words to hear,
And prove Thee my Physician.
In complicate Distress I wait
My plague no more concealing:
Pity my forlorn estate,
And show Thy power of healing.
The leprosy That cleaves to me
Thine only touch can cure;
Sin before Thy touch shall flee,
And leave my conscience pure.
Throughout my veins A fever reigns
Of pride and fierce desire:
Let Thy love remove my pains,
And quench this hellish fire.
Of creature bliss My nature is
Rapacious above measure:
Heal this dropsical disease,
This thirst of praise and pleasure.
Benumb'd by sin I long have been,
As past all sense of feeling:
Cure the palsy, Lord, within,
Thy hidden life revealing.
An issue foul Hath fill'd my soul
With pain and desperation,
But Thy word shall make me whole
With sensible salvation.
Now then exert Thy gracious art
To finish my distresses,
Drive the legion from my heart
Of devils and diseases.
O that I might Receive my sight
Through Thine almighty power!
Turn my darkness into light,
And now my faith restore.
Helpless and lame In soul I am,
But let Thy grace be given,
I through virtue of Thy name
Shall leap, and fly to heaven.
Speechless am I, Till Thy kind sigh
From this dumb fiend deliver;
Then my Lord, my God I cry,
And sing, and shout for ever!
