1. At even when the sun was set,
  The sick, O Lord, around Thee lay;
  O in what divers pains they meet!
  O with what joy they went away!
2. 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.
3. O Savior Christ, our woes dispel;
  For some are sick, and some are sad,
  And some have never love Thee well
  And some have lost the love they had;
4. And some have found the world 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;
5. And none, O Lord, have perfect rest,
  For none are wholly free from sin;
  And they who fain would serve Thee best
  Are conscious most of wrong within.
6. O Savior 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.
7. 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.