The Great Healer

Oh

when shall sick­ness and dis­ease

Their per­se­cut­ing war­fare cease;

And weak­ness die

and grief and pain

And death it­self at last be slain?

Doubt not that bet­ter day is near

The suf­fer­ing sons of earth to hear;

Disease and pain are born of sin.

Their re­me­dy is found with­in.

Let Christ

des­cend­ing from ab­ove

Become in­car­nate in Thy love.

The in­ward ills and wrong sub­due

And make Thy fall­en na­ture new.

Let the great Heal­er make Thee free

From sin’s cor­rod­ing ma­la­dy;

And then the life that’s in the soul

Shall make the suf­fer­ing bo­dy whole.