Book I · Hymn 13 · The Bitter Waters

John Newton

Bitter, indeed, the waters are.
Which in this desert flow;
Though to the eye they promise fair,
They taste of sin and woe.
Of pleasing draughts I once could dream,
But now, awake, l find,
That sin has poisoned every stream,
And left a curse behind.
But there's a wonder-working wood,
I've heard believers say,
Can make these bitter waters good,
And take the curse away.
The virtues of this healing tree
Are known and prized by few;
Reveal this secret, Lord, to me,
That I may prize it too.
The cross on which the Savior died,
And conquered for his saints;
This is the tree, by faith applied,
Which sweetens all complaints.
Thousands have found the blest effect,
Nor longer mourn their lot;
While on his sorrows they reflect,
Their own are all forgot.
When they, by faith, behold the cross,
Though many griefs they meet;
They draw again from every loss,

And find the bitter sweet.