How lost was my condition,
Till Jesus made me whole;
There is but one Physician
Can cure a sin-sick soul.
Next door to death he found me,
And snatch’d me from the grave,
To tell to all around me,
His wondrous pow’r to save.

From men great skill professing,
I thought a cure to gain;
But this prov’d more distressing,
And added to my pain;
Some said that nothing ailed me,
Some gave me up for lost,
Thus every refuge failed me,
And all my hopes were cross’d.

At length this great Physician,
How matchless is his grace!
Accepted my petition,
And undertook my case;
First, gave me sight to view him,
For sin my eyes had seal’d;
Then bid me look unto him,
I look’d, and I was heal’d.

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