The Fall Of Man How Deep And Great

The fall of man how deep and great,
How sad and wretched is his state;
God’s image in his soul effac’d!
To all reproach and shame abas’d.

Subject to Satan and his pow’r,
Can love and serve his God no more;
The drifts and studies of his mind,
Are of the base and vilest kind.

Poor helpless creature in this blood?
Yet lives at enmity with God,
To God and all his ways estrang’d,
Until his heart by brace is chang’d.

The head is sick, the heart is faint,
Incurable is the complaint;
The wisest angels from above!
Their sad diseases can’t remove.

Jesus, physician of the soul,
Can only make such patients whole;
Such medicine as he doth give,
Can make the dying soul to live.

His precious blood for sinners shed,
Is the bless’d Balm of Giliad!
A medicine of greater worth
Than all in heav’n or all on earth.

Ye sick and fainting souls draw nigh,
To him alone for help apply;
Such wounds and bruises as ye feel,
Will Christ your great physician heal.

His love and grace to you abounds;
How sweet his invitation sounds;
Come unto me ye helpless poor,
Your health and life I will restore.