The Leper

Oft as the leper’s case I read, My own described I feel: Sin is a leprosy indeed Which none but Christ can heal.

Awhile I would have pass’d for well, And strove my spots to hide, Till it broke out incurable, Too plain to be denied.

Then from the saints I sought to flee, And dreaded to be seen; I thought they all would point at me. And cry, “Unclean, unclean!”

What anguish did my soul endure Till hope and patience ceased! The more I strove myself to cure, The more the plague increased.

While thus I lay distress’d, I saw The Saviour passing by; To him, though fill’d with shame and awe, I raised my mournful cry.

Lord, thou canst heal me if thou wilt, For thou canst all things do; O cleanse my leprous soul from guilt, My filthy heart renew.

He heard, and with a gracious look Pronounced the healing word; “I will—be clean,” and while he spoke I felt my health restored.

Come, lepers, seize the present hour, The Saviour’s grace to prove; He can relieve, for he is power— He will, for he is love.