Verse. My God, I'm wounded by my sin, And sore without, and sick within: Ver. Chor. I come to Thee, in hope to find Salve for my body, and my mind. Verse. In Gilead though no Balme be found, To ease this smart, or cure this wound; Ver. Chor. Yet, Lord, I know there is with Thee All saving health, and help for me. Verse. Then reach Thou forth that hand of Thine, That powres in oyle, as well as wine. Ver. Chor. And let it work, for I'le endure The utmost smart, so Thou wilt cure. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUDDEN LIGHT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI NEAR DOVER, SEPTEMBER 1802 by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: HUMAN LIFE - ITS VALUE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE SONG OF THE SAVOYARDS by HENRY AMES BLOOD THE ESTRANGEMENT by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN ROBERT E. LEE by GAMALIEL BRADFORD THE LANGUAGE OF THE EYES by EDWARD GEORGE EARLE LYTTON BULWER-LYTTON |