O Thou Through Suffering Perfect Made

O Thou through suf­fer­ing per­fect made

On whom the bit­ter cross was laid;

In hours of sick­ness

grief and pain

No suf­fer­er turns to Thee in vain.

The halt

the maimed

the sick

the blind

Sought not in vain Thy ten­dance kind

Now in Thy poor Thy­self we see

And min­is­ter through them to Thee.

O lov­ing Sav­ior

Thou canst cure

The pains and woes Thou didst en­dure;

For all who need

Phy­si­cian great

Thy heal­ing balm we sup­pli­cate.

But

O far more

let each keen pain

And hour of woe be heav­en­ly gain

Each stroke of Thy chas­tis­ing rod

Bring back the wan­der­er near­er God!

O heal the bruis­èd heart with­in!

O save our souls all sick with sin!

Give life and health in boun­te­ous store

That we may praise Thee ev­er­more!