Beside the Gospel Pool

Beside the Gos­pel pool

Appointed for the poor;

From year to year

my help­less soul

Has wait­ed for a cure.

Ho oft­en have I seen

The heal­ing wa­ters move;

And oth­ers

round me

step­ping in

Their ef­fi­ca­cy prove.

But my com­plaints remain

I feel the ve­ry same;

As full of guilt

and fear

and pain.

As when at first I came.

O would the Lord ap­pear

My ma­la­dy to heal;

He knows how long I’ve lang­uished here;

And what dis­tress I feel.

Ho oft­en have I thought

Why should I long­er lie?

Surely the mer­cy I have sought

Is not for such as I.

But hi­ther can I go?

There is no oth­er pool

Where streams of sov­er­eign vir­tue flow

To make a sin­ner whole.

Here then

from day to day

I’ll wait

and hope

and try;

Can Je­sus hear a sin­ner pray

Yet suf­fer him to die?

No: He is full of grace;

He nev­er will per­mit

A soul

that fain would see His face

To per­ish at His feet.