Christian Classics
‹ Olney Hymns

John Newton & William Cowper · 114 of 356

113. Here at Bethesda’s pool, the poor

Hymn 113

Here at Bethesda’s pool, the poor, The withered, halt, and blind; With waiting hearts expect a cure, And free admittance find.

Here streams of wondrous virtue flow To heal a sin–sick soul; To wash the filthy white as snow, And make the wounded whole.

The dumb break forth in songs of praise, The blind their fight receive; The cripple runs in wisdom’s ways, The dead revive, and live!

Restrained to no one case, or time, These waters always move; Sinners, in every age and clime, Their vital influence prove.

Yet numbers daily near them lie, Who meet with no relief; With life in view they pine and die In hopeless unbelief.

’Tis strange they should refuse to bathe, And yet frequent the pool; But none can even wish for faith, While love of sin bears rule.

Satan their consciences has sealed, And stupefied their thought; For were they willing to be healed, The cure would soon be wrought.

Do thou, dear Savior, interpose, Their stubborn wills constrain; Or else to them the water flows, And is preached in vain.