258 MEMOIR OF GEORGE WILSON. CHAP IX. 



are memorials of times of more than ordinary suffering. In 

 ignorance of the special one alluded to, we shall give " A 

 Hymn for the Sick-room," which has been gladly welcomed 

 by other sufferers : 



Sufferer, lift thy weary eye ! 

 Help is with thee, Christ is nigh j 

 God regards thee from on high. 



All thy groans go up as prayers, 



Through the Spirit's interceding ; 

 Each unworded murmur wears, 



At God's throne, the air of pleading ; 

 And in all thy woes He shares, 



Who was once the Victim bleeding. 



Though He is, and was, all sinless-, 



He remembers mortal pain ; 

 Holy though He is-, and stainless, 



On His form the scars remain, 

 And He looketh now, though painless, 



Like a Lamb that hath been slain. 



He is not a great High Priest 



In all sympathy deficient, 

 From all human things released, 



For Himself in all sufficient ; 

 To be man He hath not ceased, 



Though He is, as God, omniscient* 



All thy bed, in all thy sickness, 



He will make with His kind hands ; 



All thy fainting, fears, and weakness, 

 Anxious thoughts, and fond demands, 



All thy patience, faith, and meekness, 

 Reach Him where on high He stands-. 



Faint not, then ! God ever listeneth, 



Answereth ere the cry is sent ; 

 Whom He loveth, those He chasteneth, 



Taketh what He only lent ; 

 For Himself our ripening hasteneth 



By His sorest punishment* 



