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John Newton - The Good Physician
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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.
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