Hymn 793
At even, ere the sun was set
- At even, ere the sun was set
The sick, O Lord, around Thee lay
O in what divers pains they met
O with what joy they went away
- Once more 'tis eventide and we
Oppressed with various ills, draw near
What if Thy form we cannot see
We know and feel that Thou art here
- O Saviour Christ, our woes dispel
For some are sick, and some are sad
And some have never loved Thee well
And some have lost the love they had
- And some are pressed with wordly care
And some are tried with sinful doubt
And some such grievous passions tear
That only Thou canst cast them out
- And some have found the worid is vain
Yet from the world they break not free
And some have friends who give them pain
Yet have not sought a friend in Thee
- O Saviour Christ, Thou too art Man
Thou hast been troubled, tempted, tried
Thy kind but searching glance can scan
The very wounds that shame would hide
- Thy touch has still its ancient power
No word from Thee can fruitless fall
Hear in this solemn evening hour
And in Thy mercy heal us all.
Christly Living