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THE PHYSICIAN
Souls astray, forlorn, misled,
Buffeted by doubt and fear,
Cannot but be comforted
When Thou drawest near.
Sweeter than the Sunday-bells
Banishing all week-day cares,
Thine the gracious voice that tells
What a Father's love prepares.
Leading to salvation's wells
Up God's altar-stairs.
Lord, Thou art the Master-singer,
And Thy song is a recall;