Bitter, indeed, the waters are

The Bitter waters by John Newton


 * Bitter, indeed, the waters are.
 * Which in this desert flow;
 * Though to the eye they promise fair,
 * They taste of sin and woe.


 * Of pleasing draughts I once could dream,
 * But now, awake, l find,
 * That sin has poisoned every stream,
 * And left a curse behind.


 * But there's a wonder-working wood,
 * I've heard believers say,
 * Can make these bitter waters good,
 * And take the curse away.


 * The virtues of this healing tree
 * Are known and prized by few;
 * Reveal this secret, Lord, to me,
 * That I may prize it too.


 * The cross on which the Savior died,
 * And conquered for his saints;
 * This is the tree, by faith applied,
 * Which sweetens all complaints.


 * Thousands have found the blest effect,
 * Nor longer mourn their lot;
 * While on his sorrows they reflect,
 * Their own are all forgot.


 * When they, by faith, behold the cross,
 * Though many griefs they meet;
 * They draw again from every loss,
 * And find the bitter sweet.