Here you will find the Poem In Sickness of poet Augustus Montague Toplady
Jesus, since I with thee am one, Confirm my soul in thee, And still continue to tread down The man of sin in me. Let not the subtle foe prevail In this my feeble hour, Frustrate all the hopes of hell Redeem from Satan's pow'r. Arm me, O Lord, from head to foot, With righteousness divine; My soul in Jesus firmly root, And seal the Saviour mine. Proportion'd to my pains below, O let my joys increase, And mercy to my spirit flow In healing streams of peace. In life and death be thou my God, And I am more than safe: Chastis'd by thy paternal rod, Support me with thy staff. Lay on me, Saviour, what thou wilt, But give me strength to bear: Thy gracious hand this cross hath dealt, Which cannot be severe. As gold refin'd may I come out, In sorrow's furnace try'd; Preserved from faithfulness and doubt, And fully putify'd. When, overwhelm'd with sore distress, Out of the pit I cry, On Jesus suffering in my place Help me to fix mine eye. When marr'd with tears, and blood, and sweat, The glorious sufferer lay, And in my stead sustain'd the heat And burden of the day. The pangs which my weak nature knows Are swallow'd up in thine: How numberless thy pondrous woes! How few, how light are mine! O might I learn of thee to bear Temptation, pain and loss! Give me a heart inur'd to prayer, And fitted to the cross. Make me, O Lord, thy patient son; Thy language mine shall be: "Father, thy gracious will be done, I take the cup from thee." While thus my soul is fixt on him Once fasten'd to the wood, Safe shall I pass through Jordan's stream, And reach the realms of God. And when my soul mounts up to keep With thee the marriage feast, I shall not die, but fall asleep On my Redeemer's breast.