Sin and Its Cure

The worst of all diseases
Is slight 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 most distressing,
And added to my pain;

Some thought that nothing ailed me,
Some gave me up for lost;
Thus every refuge failed me
And all my hopes were crossed.

At length the 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.
"Boast not thyself of tomorrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth."