Fourteenth Sunday after Trinity

There are ten at the feet of the Saviour,
In wearisome sickness they pine,
They are whole — but is this their behaviour!
'Ten cleansed! — but where are the nine?

They came all one sorrow confessing,
They knelt with one prayer at His shrine,
He sent them all back with one blessing,
'Ten cleansed! — but where are the nine?

They were one in the season of danger,
How many own Mercy divine!
Only one! — and that one is a ' stranger!'
'Ten cleansed! — but where are the nine?

O Saviour! how often in sadness
Our steps to Thine altar incline,
But return not in sunshine and gladness,
‘Ten cleansed! — but where are the nine?'

We shrink from the pain of displeasure,
Will not study its loving design;
All we want seems the freedom of leisure,
'Ten cleansed! — but where are the nine?

The vows — that in sickness or sorrow
Bound us over tenfold to be Thine —
Will they live thro' the joy of to-morrow?
'Ten cleansed! — but where are the nine?'

Better far our afflictions remaining,
If grace with the chast'ning combine,
Than to call forth Thy gentle complaining,
'Ten cleansed! — but where are the nine?