XLIV. THE SAME.
Hymn 2.
[Jesus, Thy far-extended fame]
Jesus, Thy far-extended fame
My drooping soul exults to hear:
Thy name, Thine all-restoring name
Is music in a sinner's ear.
Drawn by the evangelic sound,
I follow with the helpless crowd:
Mercy, they say, with Thee is found,
And full redemption in Thy blood.
Sinners of old Thou didst receive,
With comfortable words, and kind,
Their sorrows cheer, their wants relieve,
Heal the diseased, and cure the blind:
Whoever then Thine aid implored,
Sick, or in want, or grief, or pain,
Thy condescending grace adored,
Nor ever sought Thy help in vain.
And art Thou not the Saviour still,
In every place, and age the same?
Hast Thou forgot Thy gracious skill,
Or lost the virtue of Thy name?
Faith in Thy changeless name I have;
The good, the kind Physician Thou
Art able now our souls to save,
Art willing to restore them now.
Though seventeen hundred years are past
Since Thou didst in the flesh appear,
Thy tender mercies ever last,
And still Thy healing power is here.
Wouldst Thou the body's health restore,
And not regard the sin-sick soul?
The sin-sick soul Thou lovest much more,
And surely Thou shalt make it whole.
The wondrous works in Jewry wrought
Thou canst, Thou wilt, on me repeat;
On me, by faith divinely brought
To fall and worship at Thy feet.
Here will I ever, ever cry,
Jesus, Thy healing power exert,
Balm to my wounded spirit apply,
And bind Thou up my broken heart.
My sore disease, my desperate sin
To Thee I mournfully confess;
In pardon, Lord, my cure begin,
And perfect it in holiness.
That token of Thine utmost good
Now, Jesu, now on me bestow,
And purge my conscience with Thy blood,
And wash my nature white as snow.
