My heart is wounded—Lord, I pray,

My heart is wounded—Lord, I pray, Stretch out Thy mighty hand to heal. But wouldst Thou not, still with me stay And grant me grace to love Thy will.

Thou know’st the pain of every scar, And lonesome thoughts that come withal, But know them not just from afar: My heart’s true Friend, come bear them all!

If in my side a thorn must be, If in my heart enduring pain, Then may Thy peace be balm to me And grace my weakness still sustain.

My vessel broken past repair I bring Thee now, O Potter mine. Fill with Thyself the breaches there— Refashion me with life divine.