Yes, whosoever will,
O let him freely come,
And freely drink the stream of life:
'Tis Jesus bids him come.
4 Lo, Jesus, who invites,
Declares, "I quickly come;"
Lord, even so! I wait Thine hour;
Jesus, my Savior, come!
Henry Ustic Onderdonk. 1826.
1 "COME hither, all ye weary souls,
Ye heavy-laden sinners, come;
I'll give you rest from all your toils,
And raise you to my heavenly home.
2 "They shall find rest, that learn of Me;
I'm of a meek and lowly mind;
But passion rages like the sea,
And pride is restless as the wind.
3"Blest is the man, whose shoulders take
My yoke, and bear it with delight!
My yoke is easy to his neck;
My grace shall make the burden light."
4 Jesus! we come at Thy command,
With faith, and hope, and humble zeal;
Resign our spirits to Thy hand,
To mould and guide us at Thy will.
1 COME, said Jesus' sacred voice,
Come, and make my paths your choice:
I will guide you to your home;
Weary pilgrim, hither come!
2 Sinner, come! for here is found
Balm that flows for every wound;
Peace that ever shall endure;
Rest eternal, sacred, sure.
Anna Letitia Barbauld. 1795.
1 HASTEN, Sinner, to be wise;
Stay not for the morrow's sun:
Wisdom if you still despise,
Harder is she to be won.
2 Hasten, mercy to implore;.
Stay not for the morrow's sun :
Lest thy season should be o'er,
Ere this evening's stage be run.
3 Hasten, sinner, to return;
Stay not for the morrow's sun:
Lest thy lamp should cease to burn,
Ere salvation's work is done.
4 Hasten, sinner, to be blest;
Stay not for the morrow's sun :
Lest perdition thee arrest,
Ere the morrow is begun.
1 COME, ye weary sinners, come,
All who feel your heavy load;
Jesus calls His wanderers home;
Hasten to your pardoning God.
2 Come, ye guilty souls opprest,
Answer to the Savior's call:
"Come, and I will give you rest;
Come, and I will save you all.'
3 Jesus, full of truth and love,
We Thy kindest word obey:
Faithful let Thy mercies prove,
Take our load of guilt away.
4 Fain we would on Thee rely,
Cast on Thee our sin and care:
To Thine arms of mercy fly,
Find our lasting quiet there.
5 Lo, we come to Thee for ease;
True and gracious as Thou art,
Now our weary souls release,
Write forgiveness on our heart.
C. Wesley. 1746. a.
1 COME to Calvary's holy mountain,
Sinners, ruined by the Fall;
Here a pure and healing fountain
Flows to you, to me, to all;
In a full perpetual tide,
Opened when our Savior died.
2 Come in poverty and meanness,
Come defiled, without, within;
From infection and uncleanness,
From the leprosy of sin,
Wash your robes and make them white;
Ye shall walk with God in light.
3 Come in sorrow and contrition,
Wounded, impotent, and blind;
Here the guilty free remission,
Here the troubled peace may find:
Health this fountain will restore;
He that drinks shall thirst no more.
4 He that drinks shall live forever;
'Tis a soul-renewing flood:
God is faithful; God will never
Break His covenant in blood,
Signed when our Redeemer died,
Sealed when He was glorified.
James Montgomery. 1825.
1 GOD calling yet!-shall I not hear?
Earth's pleasures shall I still hold dear?
Shall life's swift passing years all fly,
And still my soul in slumbers lie?
2 God calling yet?-shall I not rise?
Can I His loving voice despise,
And basely His kind care repay?
He calls me still: can I delay?
3 God calling yet!-and shall He knock,
And I my heart the closer lock?
He still is waiting to receive,
And shall I dare His Spirit grieve?
4 God calling yet!-and shall I give
No heed, but still in bondage live?
I wait, but He does not forsake;
He calls me still:-my heart, awake!
5 Ah, yield Him all; in Him confide:
Where but with Him doth peace abide?
Break loose, let earthly bonds be riven,
And let the spirit rise to heaven!
6 God calling yet!-I cannot stay;
My heart I yield without delay:
Vain world, farewell! from thee I part;
The voice of God hath reached my heart!
From H. L. L. 1853.
Tr. Gerhard Tersteegen. ab. 1730.
1 GOD of mercy! God of grace!
Hear our sad repentant songs.
O restore Thy suppliant race,
Thou to whom our praise belongs!
2 Deep regret for follies past,
Talents wasted, time misspent;
Hearts debased by worldly cares,
Thankless for the blessings lent:
3 Foolish fears and fond desires,
Vain regrets for things as vain;
Lips too seldom taught to praise,
Oft to murmur and complain;
4 These, and every secret fault,
Filled with grief and shame, we own.
Humbled at Thy feet we lie,
Seeking pardon from Thy throne.
John Taylor. 1799.
10 THOU whose tender mercy hears
Contrition's humble sigh;
Whose hand, indulgent, wipes the tears
From sorrow's weeping eye!
2 See, low before Thy throne of grace,
A wretched wanderer mourn.
Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face?
Hast Thou not said, return?
3 And shall my guilty fears prevail,
To drive me from Thy feet?
O let not this dear refuge fail,
This only safe retreat.
4 Absent from Thee, my Guide, my Light,
Without one cheering ray,
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