Verse 1
Woe is me! What tongue can tell
My sad afflicted state!
Who my anguish can reveal,
Or all my woe relate!
Fallen among thieves I am,
And they have robb’d me of my God,
Turn’d my glory into shame,
And left me in my blood.

Verse 2
God was once my glorious dress,
And I like him did shine,
Satan of his righteousness
Hath spoil’d this soul of mine;
By the mortal wound of sin
’Twixt God and me the parting made:
Dead in Adam, dead within,
My soul is wholly dead.

Verse 3
I have lost the life divine,
And when this outward breath
To the giver I resign,
Must die the second death.
Naked, helpless, stript of God,
And at the latest gasp I lie:
Who beholds me in my blood,
And saves me e’er I die?

Verse 4
Lo! The priest comes down in vain,
And sees my sad distress,
Sees the state of fallen man,
But cannot give me ease:
Patriarchs and prophets old
Observe my wretched, desp’rate case,
Me expiring they behold,
But leave me as I was.

Verse 5
Lo! The Levite me espies,
And stops to view my grief,
Looks on me, and bids me rise,
But offers no relief:
All my wounds he open tears,
And searches them, alas! In vain,
Fill’d with anguish, griefs, and fears,
He leaves me in my pain.

Verse 6
O thou Good Samaritan,
In thee is all my hope,
Only thou canst succour man,
And raise the fallen up:
Hearken to my dying cry,
My wounds compassionately see,
Me a sinner pass not by
Who gasp for help to thee.

Verse 7
Still thou journey’st where I am,
And still thy bowels move,
Pity is with thee the same,
And all thy heart is love:
Stoop, to a poor sinner stoop,
And let thy healing grace abound,
Heal my bruises, and bind up
My spirit’s every wound.

Verse 8
Saviour of my soul draw nigh,
In mercy haste to me,
At the point of death I lie,
And cannot come to thee:
Now thy kind relief afford,
The wine and oil of grace pour in,
Good Physician, speak the word,
And heal my soul of sin.

Verse 9
Pity to my dying cries
Hath drawn thee from above,
Hovering over me with eyes
Of tenderness and love:
Now, ev’n now I see thy face,
The balm of Gilead I receive,
Thou hast sav’d me by thy grace,
And bad the sinner live.

Verse 10
Surely now the bitterness
Of second death is past:
O my life, my righteousness
On thee my soul is cast;
Thou hast brought me to thine inn,
And I am of thy promise sure,
Thou shalt cleanse me from all sin;
And all my sickness cure.

Verse 11
Perfect then the work begun,
And make the sinner whole,
All thy will on me be done,
My body, spirit, soul:
Still preserve me safe from harms,
And kindly for thy patient care,
Take me, Jesu, to thy[1] arms,
And keep me ever there.

[1] Wesley changed “thy” to “thine” in 1745.