Blest proofs of power and grace divine,
That meet us in his word!
May every deep-felt care of mine
Be trusted with the Lord.
Wait for his seasonable aid,
And though it tarry, wait:
The promise may be long delay'd,
But cannot come too late.
III. JEHOVAH-ROPHI. I AM THE LORD THAT HEALETH THEE.—Exod. xv. 26.
Heal us, Emmanuel, here we are,
Waiting to feel thy touch:
Deep-wounded souls to thee repair,
And, Saviour, we are such.
Our faith is feeble, we confess,
We faintly trust thy word;
But wilt thou pity us the less?
Be that far from thee, Lord!
Remember him who once applied,
With trembling, for relief;
"Lord, I believe," with tears he cried,[879]
"Oh, help my unbelief!"
She too, who touch'd thee in the press,
And healing virtue stole,
Was answer'd, "Daughter, go in peace,[880]
Thy faith hath made thee whole."
Conceal'd amid the gathering throng,
She would have shunn'd thy view;
And if her faith was firm and strong,
Had strong misgivings too.
Like her, with hopes and fears we come,
To touch thee, if we may;
Oh! send us not despairing home,
Send none unheal'd away.