Blest are the pure in heart,

For they shall see their God; The secret of the Lord is theirs ;

Their soul is Christ's abode.

He to the lowly soul

Doth still himself impart,

And for His dwelling and His throne,

Chooseth the pure in heart.

Lord! we Thy presence seek;

May ours this blessing be;

Oh, give the pure and lowly heart,A temple meet for Thee.

Thine arm, O Lord, in days of old
Was strong to heal and save;
It triumphed o'er disease and death,
O'er darkness and the grave.

To Thee they went, the blind, the dumb,
The palsied and the lame,

The leper with his tainted life,

The sick with fevered frame.

And lo! Thy touch brought life and health,
Gave speech, and strength, and sight;
And youth renewed and frenzy calmed
Owned Thee, the Lord of light.
And now, O Lord, be near to bless,
Almighty as of yore,

In crowded street, by restless couch,
As by Gennesareth's shore.

Though love and might no longer heal
By touch, or word, or look;

Though they who do Thy work must read
Thy laws in nature's book;

Yet come to heal the sick man's soul,
Come, cleanse the leprous taint,
Give joy and peace, where all is strife,
And strength, where all is faint.

Be Thou our great deliverer still,
Thou Lord of life and death,
Restore and quicken, soothe and bless
With Thine almighty breath.

To hands that work and eyes that see,
Give wisdom's heavenly lore,

That whole and sick, and weak and strong,
May praise Thee evermore.