At even, ere the sun was set

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(one verse introduction)

At even, ere-- the sun was set,
The sick, O Christ, around you lay;
O, with how many pains they met!
O, with what joy they went away!

Once more 'tis eventide, and we,
Oppressed with various ills, draw near;
What if yourself we cannot see?
We know that you are ever near.

O Savior Christ, our woes dispel;
For some are sick, and some are sad;
And some have never loved you 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 you can cast them out.

And none, O Christ, have perfect rest,
For none are wholly free from sin;
And they who wish to serve you best
Are conscious most of wrong within.

O Savior Christ, you too as we;
You have been troubled, tempted, tried;
Your kind but searching glance can see
The very wounds that shame would hide.

Your touch has still its ancient power.
No word from you can fruitless fall;
Hear, in this solemn evening hour,
And in your mercy heal us all.

Words: Henry Twells, 1868
Music: "Angelus," Georg Joseph
Sequence: Cathouse Pandemonium, Ltd