Verse 1
Is there no balm in Gilead found,
Is there no kind Physician there,
To cure a bleeding spirit’s wound,
To mitigate my sad despair,
Before th’ intolerable smart
My God and me for ever part.
Verse 2
No helps medicinal have I,
But soon the second death must feel,
Unless my God the grace supply
My plague original to heal,
Unless his Son, on me bestow’d,
Pour in the balm of his own blood.
Verse 3
Hope of the sinsick, dying soul,
Me at my latest gasp receive:
O that thy wounds might make me whole,
O that thy death might bid me live;
Live, my Physician to proclaim,
And spread the powers of Jesus name!
Verse 4
If virtue, Lord, from Thee proceed,
This loathsom Issue shall be dried,
While fully saved, and truly freed,
Restor’d, and wholly sanctified,
My happy soul exults to prove
A perfect cure in perfect love.