1 At even ere the sun was set
The sick,O Lord, around thee lay;
Oh,in what divers pains they met!
Oh,with what joy they went away!
2 Once more 'tis eventide,and we
Oppressed with various ills draw near;
What if thy form we cannot see?
We know and feel that thou art here.
3 O Saviour Christ, our woes dispel;
For some are sick,and some are sad;
And some have never loved thee well,
And some have lost the love they had.
4 O Saviour Christ, thou too art Man;
Thou hast been troubled, tempted, tried;
Thy kind but searching glance can scan
The very wounds that shame would hide;
5 Thy touch has still its ancient power;
No word from thee can fruitless fall;
Hear,in this solemn evening hour,
And in thy mercy heal us all.