Thine Arm, O Lord, in Days of Old

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 fear re­lieved

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 Gen­ne­sa­ret’s shore.

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.