The Pool of Bethesda.

I

  Beside the gospel pool,
  Appointed for the poor,
From year to year my helpless soul
  Has waited for a cure.

II

  How often have I seen
  The healing waters move,
And others, round me, stepping in,
  Their efficacy prove!

III

  But my complaints remain:
  I feel the very same;
As full of guilt and fear and pain
  As when at first I came.

IV

  O would the Lord appear
  My malady to heal;
He knows how long I’ve languish’d here,
  And what distress I feel.

V

  How often have I thought,
  Why should I longer lie?
Surely the mercy I have sought
  Is not for such as I?

VI

  But whether can I go?
  There is no other pool
Where streams of sovereign virtue flow
  To make a sinner whole.

VII

  Here, then, from day to day,
  I’ll wait and hope and try;
Can Jesus hear a sinner pray,
  Yet suffer him to die!

VIII

  No: he is full of grace;
  He never will permit
A soul that fain would see his face
  To perish at his feet.