How lost was my condition

The good Physician by John Newton


 * 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 snatched me from the grave,
 * To tell to all around me,
 * His wondrous pow'r to save.


 * The worst of all diseases
 * Is light, compared with sin;
 * On every part it seizes,
 * But rages most within:
 * 'Tis palsy, plague, and fever,
 * And madness--all combined;
 * And none but a believer
 * The least relief can find.


 * From men great skill professing
 * I thought a cure to gain;
 * But this proved 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 crossed.


 * 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 sealed;
 * Then bid me look unto him,
 * I looked, and I was healed.


 * A dying, risen Jesus,
 * Seen by the eye of faith;
 * At once from danger frees us,
 * And saves the soul from death:
 * Come then to this Physician,
 * His help he'll freely give;
 * He makes no hard condition,
 * 'Tis only--look and live.