Jehovah-Rophi⁠—I Am the Lord That Healeth Thee

I

Heal us, Emmanuel; here we are,
Waiting to feel thy touch:
Deep-wounded souls to thee repair,
And, Saviour, we are such.

II

Our faith is feeble, we confess⁠—
We faintly trust thy word;
But wilt thou pity us the less?
Be that far from thee, Lord!

III

Remember him who once applied
With trembling for relief;
“Lord, I believe,” with tears he cried,
“0 help my unbelief!”

IV

She too who touch’d thee in the press,
And healing virtue stole,
Was answer’d, “Daughter, go in peace:
Thy faith hath made thee whole.”

V

Conceal’d amid the gathering throng,
She would have shunn’d thy view,
And if her faith was firm and strong⁠—
Had strong misgivings too.

VI

Like her, with hopes and fears we come,
To touch thee if we may;
Oh! send us not despairing home,
Send none unheal’d away.