7s & 6s. The Good Samaritan. Luke x. 30. 1 WOE is me! what tongue can tell My sad afflicted state, Who my anguish can reveal, Or all my woes relate? Fallen among thieves I am, And they have robbed me of my God, Turned my glory into shame, And left me in my blood.
2 O thou good Samaritan! In thee is all my hope; Only thou canst succour man, And raise the fallen up: Hearken to my dying cry; My wounds compassionately see; Me, a sinner, pass not by, Who gasp for help from thee.
3 Still thou journeyest where I am, Still thy compassions move; Pity is with thee the same, And all thy heart is love; Stoop to a poor sinner, stoop, And let thy healing grace abound, Heal my bruises, and bind up My spirit's every wound.
4 Saviour of my soul draw nigh, In mercy haste to me, At the point of death I lie, And cannot come to thee; Now thy kind relief afford, The wine and oil of grace pour in; Good Physician, speak the word, And heal my soul of sin.
5 Pity to my dying cries Hath drawn thee from above, Hovering over me, with eyes Of tenderness and love, Now, even now, I see thy face; The balm of Gilead I receive; Thou hast saved me by thy grace, And bade the sinner live.
6 Surely now the bitterness Of second death is past; O my Life, my Righteousness, On thee my soul is cast! Thou hast brought me to thine inn, And I am of thy promise sure; Thou shalt cleanse me from all sin, And all my sickness cure.
7 Perfect then the work begun, And make the sinner whole; All thy will on me be done, My body, spirit, soul; Still preserve me safe from harms, And kindly for thy patient care, Take me, Jesus, to thine arms, And keep me ever there.
