The Prayer of the Sick

IN A CASE LIKE HEZEKIAIl’S.

To the Tune of the 51st Psalm.

THE FIRST PART.

Eternal God, whose name is love;
Whose mercy is my hope and stay:

0 hear and help me from above,
That in distress to thee do pray.

Ashamed to lift up my face,

Hence from the dust to thee I cry:

Though I have sinn’d against thy grace Yet unto it alone I fly.

1 was at first in sin conceived,

Then lived a vain and sinful life; Rebellious flesh which I received, Is still against thy grace in strife.

Long it was, Lord, alas! too long,

Before I knew myself or thee:
Vanity ruled my heart and tongue:

And O that yet my soul were free!

But while I sinned thou wast kind,

And sent’st thy word and spirit of grace; Thy l&ht did change my darken’d mind,

Ana shewed me my wretched case. Though I drew back, thou didst prevail;

And I gave up myself to thee. Thou undertook ‘st for wind and sail;

Both ship and pilot thou wouldst be,

1 turn’d my back on worldly toys;

And set my face tow’rds glory’s shore; Where thou hast promised highest joys,

And blessedness for evermore. I took my leave of sin and earth;

What I had loved, I now did hate:
Ashamed of my former birth,

I gave my life a newer date.

But since that time how I am toss’d!

Afraid of every storm and wave:
Almost concluding I am lost,

As if thou wouldst not help and save. If I look out beyond thine ark,

Nothing but raging seas 1 see: On this side Heav’n all’s deep and dark:

But I look further unto thee.

Censures and scorns, and frowns, I bear: Storms which before I never found;

And yet all these I should not fear, If all at home were safe and sound.

But thy displeasure wounds my heart. I have hut two parts, flesh and soul:

Both of thy wrath do hear their part; And thou hast left me neither whole.

THE SECOND PART.

All this is just, Lord, I confess;

I staid too long ere I came in: And how should healing grace do less,

When I brought with me so much sin? Much pride and vanity I kept:

Too oft my heart was looking back: Though God stood by me, yet I slept:

Heav’n was at hand; yet I grew slack.

Spare, Lord, and pity thy poor dust!

That fled into thy ark for peace!
O cause my soul on thee to trust!

And do not my distress increase.
O keep up life and peace within!

If I must feel thy chastening rod!
Yet kill not me, but kill my sin;

And let me know thou art my God!

Folly dwelt in my childish breast;

Sin robb’d me of my youthful days: Let not thy wrath cut off the rest,

And stifle thine intended praise, Whilst I forgot thee, thou didst bear:

Thy kindness did invite me home: O rack me not with grief and fear!

Kill me not, Lord, now I am come.

The silent dust speaks not thy fame,

Nor in dark graves art thou renown’d: The living saints declare thy name,

And in thy church thy praises sound. Yet let me with thy household dwell;

Though I be number ‘d with thy poor: And with thy saints thy wonders tell,

Although I sit behind thy door.

Set not thy strength against frail man!

O turn not yet this flesh to clay! My life, thou know’st, is but a span,

If I should see the longest day.
Break me not all to pieces, Lord;

Or else let each piece have a tongue, To cry, till thou relief afford,

But not to say, thou dost me wrong.

Pity this poor unworthy soul,

That here devotes itself to thee: Resolve my doubts; my fears controul;

And let me thy salvation see. O let that love which gave me groans,

And taught my needy soul to pray,
Remove my fears, and hear the moans

Which sorrow breathes forth night and day.

THE THIRD PART.

Why art thou, fainting soul, cast down;

And thus disquieted with fears?
Art thou not passing to thy crown,

Through storms of pain, and floods of tears? Fear not, O thou of little faith!

Art thou not in thy Saviour’s hand? Remember what his promise saith:

Life and death are at his command.

To him I did myself entrust,

When first I did for Heav’n embark! And he hath proved kind and just:

Still I am with him in his ark. Could’ st thou expect to see no seas?

Nor feel no tossing wind or wave?
It is enough that from all these

Thy faithful pilot will thee save.

Lord, let me not my covenant break!

Once I did all to thee resign:
Only the words of comfort speak,

And tell my soul that I am thine. It’s no death when souls hence depart,

If thou depart not from the soul: Fill with thy love my fainting heart,

And I ’11 not fading flesh condole.

Health is but sickness with thy frown-: Life with thy wrath is worse than death:

My comforts thy displeasure drowns, And into groans tunes all my breath.

Where is that faith, and hope, and love, By which thou markest all thy saints?

Thy joys would all my grief remove, And raise this heart that daily faints.

Am I the Jonas? dost thou mean

To cast me out into the deep? It shall not drown but make me clean:

Until thou raise me, there I ’11 sleep. 0 death! where is thy poisonous sting?

O grave! where is thy victory? Thy dust shall shortly rise, and sing

God’s praise above the starry sky.

My God, my love, my hope, my life I,

Shall I be loath to see thy face? As if this world of sin and strife,

Were for my soul a better place?
O give my soul some sweet foretaste

Of that which I shall shortly see! Let faith and love cry to the last,

Come Lord, I trust myself to thee*.

O let not unbelieving Thomas’ words

Be now my answer: but my dearest Lord’s. Amen.

* John ii. 14 or 16.