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 worldly 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 world is vain Yet from the world they break not free And some found 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.