Come, ye souls by sin afflicted,
Bow'd with fruitless sorrow down;
By the broken law convicted,
Through the cross behold the crown!
Look to Jesus — —
Mercy flows through him alone.

Take his easy yoke and wear it,
Love will make obedience sweet;
Christ will give you strength to bear it,
While his wisdom guides your feet,
Safe to glory — —
Where his ransom'd captives meet.

Sweet, as home, to pilgrims weary,
Light to newly open'd eyes;
Or full springs in desarts dreary,
Is the rest the cross supplies:
All who taste it — —
Shall to rest immortal rise.

Blessed are the eyes that see him,
Blest the ears that hear his voice:
Blessed are the souls that trust him,
And in him alone rejoice;
His commandments — —
Then become their happy choice.

But to sing the rest of glory
Mortal tongues far short must fall;
Tongues celestial strive to reach it,
But it soars beyond them all:
Faith believes it — Hope expects it — Love desires it — —
But it overwhelms them all.