The Good Physician
How lost was my condition
Till Jesus made me whole!
There is but one Physician
Can cure a sin-sick soul.
Next door to death he found me,
And snatched me from the grave,
To tell to all around me,
His wondrous pow'r to save.
The worst of all diseases
Is light, compared with sin;
On every part it seizes,
But rages most within:
'Tis palsy, plague, and fever,
And madness -- all combined;
And none but a believer
The least relief can find.
From men great skill professing
I thought a cure to gain;
But this proved more distressing,
And added to my pain:
Some said that nothing ailed me,
Some gave me up for lost;
Thus every refuge failed me,
And all my hopes were crossed.
At length this great Physician,
How matchless is his grace!
Accepted my petition,
And undertook my case:
First gave me sight to view him,
For sin my eyes had sealed;
Then bid me look unto him,
I looked, and I was healed.
A dying, risen Jesus,
Seen by the eye of faith;
At once from danger frees us,
And saves the soul from death:
Come then to this Physician,
His help he'll freely give;
He makes no hard condition,
'Tis only -- look and live.
poem by John Newton
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Related quotes
How Lost Was My Condition
How lost was my condition
Till Jesus made me whole!
There is but one physician
Can cure a sin-sick soul
Next door to death he found me,
And snatched me from the grave,
To tell all around me
His wond'rous pow'r to save.
The worst of all diseases
Is light compared with sin;
On ev'ry part it seizes,
But rages most within;
'Tis palsy, plague, and fever,
And madness-all combined;
And none, but a believer,
The least relief can find.
From men, great skill professing,
I sought a cure to gain;
But this proved more distressing,
And added to my pain;
Some said that nothing ailed me,
Some gave me up for lost;
Thus ev'ry refuge failed me,
And all my hopes were crossed.
At length this great Physician,
How matchless is His grace!
Accepted my petition,
And undertook my case;
First, gave me sight to view him,
For sin my eyes had sealed-
Then bit me look unto Him;
I looked, and I was healed.
A dying, risen Jesus,
Seen by the eye of faith,
At once from danger frees us,
And saves the soul from death;
Come, then, to this Physician,
His help he'll freely give,
He makes no hard condition-
To Jesus look and live!
poem by John Newton
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A Sick Soul
Physician of my sin-sick soul,
To thee I bring my case;
My raging malady control,
And heal me by thy grace.
Pity the anguish I endure,
See how I mourn and pine;
For never can I hope a cure
From any hand but thine.
I would disclose my whole complaint,
But where shall I begin?
No words of mine can fully paint
That worst distemper, sin.
It lies not in a single part,
But through my frame is spread;
A burning fever in my heart,
A palsy in my head.
It makes me deaf, and dumb, and blind,
And impotent and lame;
And overclouds, and fills my mind,
With folly, fear, and shame.
A thousand evil thoughts intrude
Tumultuous in my breast;
Which indispose me for my food,
And rob me of my rest.
Lord I am sick, regard my cry,
And set my spirit free;
Say, canst thou let a sinner die,
Who longs to live to thee?
poem by John Newton
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The Ruler's Daughter Raised
Could the creatures help or ease us
Seldom should we think of prayer;
Few, if any, come to Jesus,
Till reduced to self-dispair:
Long we either slight or doubt him,
But when all the means we try,
Prove we cannot do without him,
Then at last to him we cry.
Thus the ruler when his daughter
Suffered much, though Christ was nigh,
Still deferred it, till he thought her
At the very point to die:
Though he mourned for her condition,
He did not entreat the Lord,
Till he found that no physician
But himself, could help afford.
Jesus did not once upbraid him,
That he had no sooner come;
But a gracious answer made him,
And went straitway with him home:
Yet his faith was put to trial
When his servants came, and said,
Though he gave thee no denial,
'Tis too late, the child is dead.
Jesus; to prevent his grieving,
Kindly spoke and eased his pain;
Be not fearful, but believing,
Thou shalt see her live again:
When he found the people weeping,
Cease, he said, no longer mourn;
For she is not dead, but sleeping,
Then they laughed him to scorn.
O thou meek and lowly Savior,
How determined is thy love!
Not this rude unkind behavior,
Could thy gracious purpose move:
Soon as he the room had entered,
Spoke, and took her by the hand;
Death at once his prey surrendered,
And she lived at his command.
Fear not then, distressed believer,
Venture on his mighty name;
He is able to deliver,
And his love is still the same
Can his pity or his power,
Suffer thee to pray in vain;
Wait but his appointed hour,
And thy suit thou shalt obtain.
poem by John Newton
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The Legion Dispossessed
Legion was my name by nature,
Satan raged within my breast;
Never misery was greater,
Never sinner more possessed:
Mischievous to all around me,
To myself the greatest foe;
Thus I was, when Jesus found me,
Filled with madness, sin and woe.
Yet in this forlorn condition,
When he came to see me free;
I replied, to my Physician,
What have I to do with thee?
But he would not be prevented,
Rescued me against my will;
Had he stayed till I consented,
I had been a captive still.
Satan, though thou fain wouldst have it,
Know this soul is none of thine;
I have shed my blood to save it,
Now I challenge it for mine,
Though it long has thee resembled,
Henceforth it shall me obey;
Thus he spoke while Satan trembled,
Gnashed his teeth and fled away.
Thus my frantic soul he healed,
Bid my sins and sorrows cease;
Take, said he, my pardon sealed,
I have saved thee, go in peace:
Rather take me, Lord, to heaven,
Now thy love and grace I know;
Since thou hast my sins forgiven,
Why should I remain below?
Love, he said, will sweeten labors,
Thou hast something yet to do;
Go and tell your friends and neighbors,
What my love has done for you:
Live to manifest my glory,
Wait for heav'n a little space;
Sinners, when they hear thy story,
Will repent and seek my face.
poem by John Newton
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That's Jesus
THAT'S JESUS
WHEN I WAKE UP IN THE MORNING
PUT MY FEET ON THE FLOOR
I THANK HIM FOR THE DAY
THAT HE GAVE ME ONE MORE
I GIVE HIM ALL THE PRAISE
THE ONE THAT I ADORE
THAT'S JESUS, OH THAT'S JESUS
I WAS LOST AND ALL ALONE
MY HEART IN NEED OF HELP
I FOUND ETERNAL LIFE
AND LOST MY FEAR OF DEATH
BECAUSE I KNOW THE AUTHOR OF
MY EVERY BREATH,
OH THAT'S JESUS, THAT'S JESUS
GOD OF GLORY, MAJESTY
THE HOLY ONE WHO DIED FOR ME
WHO'S THE ONE I LONG TO SEE
THAT'S JESUS, OH THAT'S JESUS
IF YOU'RE A SOUL THAT'S LOST
AND IN NEED OF DIRECTION
YOU WONDER WHEN YOU DIE
IF YOU'LL GO TO HEAVEN
WELL FRIEND I'VE FOUND THE ANSWER
TO THAT VERY QUESTION
THAT'S JESUS, THAT'S JESUS
GOD OF GLORY, MAJESTY
THE HOLY ONE WHO DIED FOR ME
WHO'S THE ONE I LONG TO SEE
THAT'S JESUS, OH THAT'S JESUS
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Name of Jesus…
The name of Jesus gives us grace anew;
The name of Jesus cures minds of evils;
The name of Jesus portrays divine view;
The name of Jesus drives away devils.
The name of Jesus works great miracles;
The name of Jesus brings solace to all;
The name of Jesus flashes parables;
The name of Jesus makes a clarion call!
The name of Jesus wards off dangers great;
The name of Jesus acts like holy knives!
The name of Jesus changes sad a fate;
The name of Jesus saves all sinners’ lives.
The name of Jesus will convert a soul;
The name of Jesus leads souls to God’s goal!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-5-2006
poem by John Celes
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Jesus Saves
Some people find Jesus
In the back of a old country church
Some find Him
In an worn out bible book
But I found Jesus
In the heart of a dear old friend
Just when I thought my life was over
Jesus gave back to me again
She told how He loved me
That He never walked away
For that's when I saw His love
In her eyes that very day
Oh how lucky I have been
To have a believer as a friend
For when I was lost and at my bitter end
She brought me back to Him
Just when I thought my life was over
Jesus gave it back again
Now when people ask me
If there really is a God
I just look them in the eye
Give them a simple nod
For if it wasn't for my friend and God
I wouldn't be here today
Just when I thought my life was over
Jesus gave it back that day
poem by David Kush
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Hymn 153
The distemper, folly, and madness of sin
Sin, like a venomous disease,
Infects our vital blood;
The only balm is sovereign grace,
And the physician, God.
Our beauty and our strength are fled,
And we draw near to death;
But Christ the Lord recalls the dead
With his almighty breath.
Madness by nature reigns within,
The passions burn and rage,
Till God's own Son, with skill divine,
The inward fire assuage.
[We lick the dust, we grasp the wind,
And solid good despise;
Such is the folly of the mind,
Till Jesus makes us wise.
We give our souls the wounds they feel,
We drink the pois'nous gall,
And rush with fury down to hell;
But Heav'n prevents the fall.]
[The man possessed among the tombs
Cuts his own flesh, and cries;
He foams and raves, till Jesus comes,
And the foul spirit flies.]
poem by Isaac Watts
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A physician is not angry at the intemperance of a mad patient, nor does he take it ill to be railed at by a man in fever. Just so should a wise man treat all mankind, as a physician does his patient, and look upon them only as sick and extravagant.
quote by Lucius Annaeus Seneca
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A double edge sword
They say love is
a physician,
or a medicine for
the hearts pang.
But is not much
accurate when love
slugs you many times
and it never heals
the heart,
Much more then that it
shatters it every time.
For my heart is wounded
in numerous ways it is not
a proving thing,
Is like a myth a
fairy tale;
Love is a double
edge sword,
they might say love
is an antidote that
heals or an aspirin to
ease the pain,
Not in my world,
in my veins,
but yet the only
love that heals my wounds
and my aches is
the Lord's love.
A mans love
has no remedy,
it is the worst love you
can conceive
love is a tainted touch
when coming from mortal,
A dark veil with
poison desires,
love has come to me
with untainted eyes,
and hidden thorns,
covering his identity,
A pet can give away
his best to you,
a pure innocent love,
with meekness eyes
and pure soul.
Love is not a healer
to the heart,
to me it is a thieve of my
peace and bliss,
a harmony turn to war.
So love is a physician,
that's what they say,
but medicine posthumous
is unreachable unless by
Godly
The love of God is
a true love,
it has no envy
no confinement,
no conditions,
is perpetual and
immaculate.
Don't tell me love
is a physician,
a physician is
what I need after having
the love of thee.
Jehovah is my physician indeed
copyrightElenaToledo2009
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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A Phoenician Woman Of Faith
your praying every single time
your heart is moved to take in
a stray dog or cat; I remember
a Phoenician woman who cried
out to the Lord, son of David;
because her daughter was badly
demonized; Jesus said to his disciples
“I was not sent forth to any but
to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”
When the woman made obeisance
saying “Lord, help me! ” In answer
Jesus said “It is not right to take the bread
of the children and throw it to little dogs.”
With a mother’s love praying for her
daughter the Phoenician woman replied
“Yes Lord, but even the dogs do eat
of the crumbs falling from their master’s
table.” Jesus replied “Oh woman, great
is your faith; let it happen to you
as you wish.” In faith her daughter
was healed from that hour on. Thus Matthew 15: 21-28.
every time we give more than
we have to give we emulate Jesus
who gave to a faithful Phoenician
woman although she was not
a lost sheep of the house of Israel
she received in faith her daughter
healed just like similar faith encounter
a Roman centurion from Capernaum
who believed from a distance Jesus
could heal because he had authority
and in faith the manservant was healed Matthew 8: 5-13.
God gives authority as God has chosen
Jesus cared even when his disciples
thought Jesus should not it was Jesus
who miracle feed hungry five thousand
every time Jesus cared when others
thought Jesus should not to Father God
Jesus was praying as every single time
we care when others think we should not
we are also praying as my own father
was often praying when others knew it not
Inspired by the poem ‘You’re Praying’ by Eric Cockrell.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Your pain is....
Your pain is the breaking of the shell
that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break,that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder
at the daily miracles of your life, your pain
would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your
heart, even as you have always accepted
the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity
through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the
physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink
his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided
by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips,
has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter
has moistened with His own sacred tears.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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On Pain
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses
your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its
heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the
daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem
less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart,
even as you have always accepted the seasons that
pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the
winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within
you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy
in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by
the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has
been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has
moistened with His own sacred tears.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Pain XVI
And a woman spoke, saying, 'Tell us of Pain.'
And he said:
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Pain
And a woman spoke, saying, 'Tell us of Pain.'
And he said:
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Over Death He Had Victory
He took my fears away
Restored my soul with peace
And each day as I pray
I give Him thanks for these.
So great His Loving Mercy
And flowing His forgiveness
Over Death He had victory
To lead us all to holiness.
There's no more fear
For those who come to know
The God Who holds us dear
And gave His Son to show
Hearts of men are bitter
But Jesus does the healing
There is life here and after
That is where I will be going.
Many are lost and fallen
But those who came to believe
In Christ we are forgiven
Forever in Him we live!
'For the wages of sin is Death but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus.'
Romans 6: 23
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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God’s Healing Hand
Almighty God’s healing hand, can touch the heart and soul of man,
The same hand which heals ills, can straighten out our twisted wills.
Christ who healed the multitudes, also healed hearts and attitudes,
The Lord can redirect any life, away from pains and darkened strife.
God will meet you where you are, dear friend, be it near or be it far.
For God leads a lost sinful soul, to His Son, who makes him whole.
He will give you new found sight, and put you on a path that’s right.
God will meet you in your night, to guide you out with His pure light.
Taking you from where you’ve been, by His Son, who heals our sin.
He then takes you to a higher place, as He leads you by His Grace.
God’s Eternal Healing for every life, is in the power of Jesus Christ.
Through His stripes we are healed, this is what Isaiah has revealed,
Stripes He received upon the cross, where Christ died for all the lost.
Isaiah and others had prophesied, about Christ who came and died,
Well before Christ walked on earth, well before Christ’s humble birth.
Although Christ healed many friend, He came to show a better end,
As all who one day leave this life, can live forever with Jesus Christ.
The stripes that He did receive, spiritually healed all who did believe.
Even today the stripes He bore, for men lead to God’s Eternal shore.
Beyond is eternal life, not death, eternal health and Heaven’s breath.
(Copyright ©07/2006)
Sonnet- Medical History In Diagnosis
O Healer, lend thine ears to his story!
He talks by heart and cannot lie a lot;
To make the diagnosis and gain glory,
To all things possible, you must give thought.
Remember, patients come in much distress;
They need a soul kind who will hear their case;
The disease-state puts one into great stress;
A good history is the diagnosing-base.
Suspect all conditions under the Sun;
The eyes can see what mind already knows;
Examining case for clues is serious fun;
To every doctor, patient, his life owes.
Oh healer, God is the Physician, so great!
His help we need to change the patient’s state.
poem by John Celes
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What sense would it make or what would it benfit a physician if he discovered the origin of the diseases but could not cure or alleviate them?
quote by Paracelsus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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From your confessor, lawyer and physician, hide not your case on no condition.
quote by John Harington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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