If Thou Wilt
Through lesioned lips the leper cries
If thou wilt, Lord, cleanse these sores
The pleading soul was plagued no more.
With tearful eyes, the sufferer cries
Spirit groaning from weight of woe
But how to aid, I do not know.
I cannot cool the trial’s flame
No healing touch at my command
Are powers held in abler Hands.
Yet what I have, so much I’ll give
My feeble comfort through journey’s end
No miracle. Just a friend.