The pool of Bethesda by John Newton

Beside the Gospel pool

Appointed for the poor;

From year to year, my helpless soul

Has waited for a cure.

How often have I seen

The healing waters move;

And others, round me, stepping in

Their efficacy prove.

But my complaints remain,

I feel the very same;

As full of guilt, and fear, and pain.

As when at first I came.

O would the Lord appear

My malady to heal;

He knows how long I’ve languished here;

And what distress I feel.

How often have I thought

Why should I longer lie?

Surely the mercy I have sought

Is not for such as I.

But whither can I go?

There is no other pool

Where streams of sovereign virtue flow

To make a sinner whole.

Here then, from day to day,

I’ll wait, and hope, and try;

Can Jesus hear a sinner pray,

Yet suffer him to die?

No: He is full of grace;

He never will permit

A soul, that fain would see His face,

To perish at His feet.