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.