"LORD, I believe," the father cried;
     "Help Thou mine unbelief:
O! if Thou canst, have mercy now,
     And give my child relief!"

The father's fervent prayer was heard,
     Fulfill'd, the father's joy;
The Saviour pitied, spake, and healed
     His poor demoniac boy.

Sinner, this Lord is still the same,
     Still waiting, to forgive;
Seek, then, His cleansing, saving blood,
     Believe, obey, and live.

Sufferer, it is thy Father 'smites,
     Thy Father's chastening love:
The hand that gives, will heal the wound,
     In fairer realms above.

Christian, 'tis there thy Saviour reigns,
     Enthroned above the skies,
And thither, freed from death's dark thrall,
     Thy ransom'd soul shall rise.

Believer, press undaunted on,
     Nor heed earth's dull delay,
While angels wait, to welcome thee,
     To realms of ceaseless day.

Sinner, no more, nor sufferer then,
     Life's painful journey o'er,
Thine is the Christian heritage
     Of joy, for ever more;

And crowns of quenchless glory thine,
     Thy constancy's reward;
Believer, thine, in Heaven to dwell
     Forever, with the Lord.

Project Canterbury