5. Prayer in Sickness
O Thou merciful and gracious God and Father, I acknowledge and confess to Thee that I have not spent my life (which I received from Thee) profitably and to Thy honor, but to the satisfying of the desires of my flesh, having served myself and the world more than Thee. O Lord, I am heartily sorry for having spent the short time of my life to such bad purpose, and I now see that Thou dost visit me on account of my sins in sending upon me this sickness in order to call me to repentance. Thou dost judge me in equity, O Lord, and dost chastise me in order that I may not be condemned with the wicked world. By this sickness Thou dost remind me of my mortal state; Thou teachest me to know mine end and the measure of my days, what it is. Surely every man walketh in a vain show; he heapeth up riches and knoweth not who shall gather them. And now, what wait I for? My hope is in Thee. Deliver me, I beseech Thee, from my transgressions. I know, O Lord, that my times are in Thy hand: Thou hast written all my members in Thy book, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there were none of them. My substance was not hid from Thee when I was curiously wrought in my mother's womb. Since, now, it is Thy will that I should be sick, let me gladly submit to this Thy will. O Lord, Thine arrows stick fast in me, and Thy hand presseth me sore. There is no soundness in my flesh because of Thine anger, nor is there any rest in my bones because of my sins; for my sins cover me and as a heavy burden they are too heavy for me. O my God, preserve my soul from all temptations and let this sickness of the body act as a remedy for the restoring of my soul. Keep my heart and mind and protect me against the fiery darts of the devil with Thy shield and buckler by the peace of my Lord Jesus Christ. Thou knowest, O Lord, that I am the work of Thy hands, Thou hast formed me out of the clay; we are the clay, and Thou art our Potter. Alas, how I am broken to pieces! Therefore, O Lord, spare me; Thou wilt not cast away nor in Thy wrath destroy the work of Thy hand; Thou hast separated me from my mother' s womb; Thou didst make me hope when I was upon my mother's breasts; Thou are the Lord and the Giver of my life and hast power to take it again according to Thy pleasure. If it be Thy will, show mercy unto me, as Thou did King Hezekiah, to whose life Thou didst add fifteen years. Behold, for peace I have great bitterness; in love keep my soul and deliver it from the pit of corruption and cast all my sins behind Thy back. Should this sickness not be unto death, then graciously restore me to health, for I am very frail. O Lord Jesus Christ, Thou heavenly Physician, take Thou me in treatment, relieve my pain, heal me by Thy wounds, and let Thy bitter sufferings and death be my remedy. O Lord, let me touch the hem of Thy garment, namely, Thy Word and Sacrament, in which Thou art wrapped up, and restore me by the power proceeding from Thee. But if it be Thy will that in this sickness I shall go the way of all flesh, be it so, for I am no better than my fathers; only, O Lord, let Thy servant depart in peace according to Thy Word, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people, a Light to lighten the Genitles, and the Glory of Thy people Isreal. Amen.