499 For help, O whither shall I flee?

1 For help, O whither shall I flee? Who now to peace will guide me? To none, dear Savior, but to Thee, Can I with hope confide me. 'Tis Thine to give the weary rest, The mourning soul in Thee is blest, Help, Jesus, the afflicted! 2 My sin, O Lord, is now my grief, Against my will it rages; Thy grace alone can bring relief. While sin its warfare wages, All that I need is known to Thee, And now a part myself can see,-- Help, Jesus, the sin-burdened! 3 Good Shepherd, bearest Thou the weak? Sustain me in my weakness! Thou great Physician of the sick, Heal Thou my moral sickness! A prey to death I helpless fall,-- For health and strength to Thee I call, Save, Jesus, or I perish! 4 To those who trust Thee, "Nothing fear! I am the life!"-Thou criest; Seeks not my soul, with strong desire, The life which Thou suppliest? Through all my sorrows Thou canst lead, In death provide for every need, Help, Jesus, the confiding. 5 I would do good, but still I fail,-- Must I thus always waver? What grief it gives Thou knowest well. Who shall my soul deliver, And set the slave for ever free From sin and death to live with Thee?-- I thank Thee, God, through Jesus!