John Newton (1725–1807)

Physician of my sin-sick soul
To Thee I bring my case;
My raging malady control,
And heal me by Thy grace.

Pity the anguish I endure,
See how I mourn and pine;
For never can I hope a cure
From any hand but Thine.

I would disclose my whole complaint,
But where shall I begin?
No words of mine can fully paint
That worst distemper, sin.

It lies not in a single part,
But thro’ my frame is spread
A burning fever in my heart.
A palsy in my head.

It makes me deaf, and dumb, and blind,
And impotent and lame,
And overclouds and fills my mind,
With folly, fear and shame.

A thousand evil thoughts intrude,
Tumultuous in my breast;
Which indispose me for my food,
And rob me of my rest.

Lord I am sick, regard my cry,
And set my spirit free;
Say, canst Thou let a sinner die,
Who longs to live to Thee?

thanks to Randy Reed for mining and contributing this gem!

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