To God: an Anthem, Sung in the Chapel at White-Hall, Before the King
Verse. My God, I'm wounded by my sin,
And sore without, and sick within:
Ver. Chor. I come to Thee, in hope to find
Salve for my body, and my mind.
Verse. In Gilead though no Balme be found,
To ease this smart, or cure this wound;
Ver. Chor. Yet, Lord, I know there is with Thee
All saving health, and help for me.
Verse. Then reach Thou forth that hand of Thine,
That powres in oyle, as well as wine.
Ver. Chor. And let it work, for I'le endure
The utmost smart, so Thou wilt cure.
And sore without, and sick within:
Ver. Chor. I come to Thee, in hope to find
Salve for my body, and my mind.
Verse. In Gilead though no Balme be found,
To ease this smart, or cure this wound;
Ver. Chor. Yet, Lord, I know there is with Thee
All saving health, and help for me.
Verse. Then reach Thou forth that hand of Thine,
That powres in oyle, as well as wine.
Ver. Chor. And let it work, for I'le endure
The utmost smart, so Thou wilt cure.
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