CHRIST HEALING THE SICK.

Giver of health and life,

Where, but to thee, can pain and sorrow go,
Amidst the weary strife,

The fitful fever, and the maddening throe,
Which wring the bosom in this world of woe?
Oh thou, of all, the meekest and the best,
Where, but with thee, can the sad heart find rest?

Calmly thou standest there:

The temple's arches vast are swelling round:
Thy presence fills the air

With holy radiance and with peace profound,
And bids an influence, as of hope, abound;
On thee the languid eye in trust is turned,
Where late the baleful fires of frenzy burned.

CHRIST HEALING THE SICK.

Giver of health and life,

Where, but to thee, can pain and sorrow go,
Amidst the weary strife,

The fitful fever, and the maddening throe, Wiel wag de som in this world of woc? eckest and the best,

h thee, can the sad heart find res

Calmly thou standest thre:

he's arches vast are swelling round: