Verse 1
Love divine, th’ afflicted see,
Mov’d with our infirmity,
Once thyself a Man of Grief,
Hasten, Lord, to our relief.

Verse 2
Mindful of thy suffering days,
Now as then replete with grace,
Good Physician, bow the skies,
Come before our infant dies.

Verse 3
Present in thy balmy power,
Thou cast [canst] suddenly restore,
By a word the dying save;
Speak, and snatch him from the grave.

Verse 4
Touching this we both agree,
If thy blessed will it be,
Now the burning fever chide,
Turn the dart of death aside.

Verse 5
If thou dost our sorrows share,
Children in thy bosom bear,
Help an innocent opprest,
Give to thy beloved rest.

Verse 6
While we yet invoke thy name,
Quench the life-devouring flame;
While we a sad vigil keep,
Grant him in thy arms to sleep.

Verse 7
Thou his feebleness sustain,
Pity, and assuage his pain,
Thou whose tender mercies are
Kinder than a father’s care.

Verse 8
Listning to his plaintive moan,
Make his every grief thine own,
Thou whose yearning bowels move
Softer than a mother’s love.

Verse 9
Need we then prescribe to thee
Cloath’d with our humanity,
Succour with impatience crave,
Urge salvation’s self to save?

Verse 10
No: we have our suit made known
Now let all thy will be done:
Do whate’er thy Spirit requests,
Do whate’er thy heart suggests.