Friday, October 17, 2008

A Poem

Sin and it's cure
By John Newton

The worst of all diseases
Is light compared with sin;
On every part it seizes,
But rages most within.
'Tis palsy, plague, and fever,
And madness all combined;
And none but a believer
The least relief can find.

From men great skill professing
I thought a cure to gain,
But this proved more distressing,
And added to my pain.
Some said that nothing ailed me,
Some gave me up for lost;
Thus every refuge failed me,
And all my hopes were crossed.

At length the great Physician-
How matchless is His grace-
Accepted my petition,
And undertook my case.
First gave me sight to view Him-
For sin my eyes had sealed;
Then bade me look unto Him!
I looked, and I was healed.



  1. Thank you, I found it in a book of poems published by the Mennonites.
    Have a blessed day!