How long, thou faithful God, shall I
Here in thy ways forgotten lie?
When shall the means of healing be
The channels of thy grace to me?

Sinners on ev’ry side step in,
And wash away their pain and sin;
But I, a helpless sinsick soul
Still lie expiring at the pool.

Thou cov’nant Angel, swift come down,
Today thine own appointments crown;
Thy pow’r into the means infuse,
And give them now their sacred use.

Thou seest me lying at the pool,
I would, thou know’st, I would be whole;
O let the troubled waters move,
And minister thy healing love.

Recordings 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8