Catherine Winkworth · 171 of 207

He Maketh all our Bed in our Sickness

Bed of sickness! thou art sweet, If I lie at Jesu's feet; Only there true health I find, Health of body and of mind; Only there is living life, When His voice ends fear and strife, "Lo thy sins are all forgot;" Then can Death affright me not.

Lord, I thank Thy ceaseless care All my suffering Thou dost share, Thou true penitence hast sent Whereof needs not to repent; Breathest longing through my pain, Thy salvation to attain, Breathest faith within my breast, On Thy grace alone to rest.

Great Physician of the soul, Thou canst fear and pain control, Thine the power is to forgive, Thine to make faith truly live; ls this sickness for me meet? Lay me only at Thy feet, I shall live there on Thy grace, Live to thank Thee and to praise.

Angenehmes Alrankenbette