Great Healer, The

Oh, when shall sickness and disease

Their persecuting warfare cease;

And weakness die, and grief and pain,

And death itself at last be slain?

Doubt not that better day is near,

The suffering sons of earth to hear;

Disease and pain are born of sin.

Their remedy is found within.

Let Christ, descending from above,

Become incarnate in Thy love.

The inward ills and wrong subdue,

And make Thy fallen nature new.

Let the great Healer make Thee free

From sin's corroding malady;

And then the life that's in the soul

Shall make the suffering body whole.