1844-54. HYMN FOR THE SICK-ROOM. 397 



"I am sure we all pray too little, and trust God too little ; 

 but the topic is inexhaustible." 



We cannot be certain which hymn is spoken of in the pre- 

 ceding letter. Not a few were ' Songs in the night/ and are 

 memorials of times of more than ordinary suffering. In igno- 

 rance of the special one alluded to, we shall give ' A Hymn for 

 the Sick-room/ the soothing balm of which has been gladly 

 welcomed by other sufferers : 



Sufferer, lift thy weary eye ! 

 Help is with thee, Christ is nigh ; 

 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 ouv ripening hasteneth 

 By His sorest punishment. 



