Ludv. M. Lindeman, 1812–87 435 8, 9, 8, 9, 8, 8, 9, 9, 8, 8. O come, if sin ner be thy name, And sin's sore burden thou art The suppliant at His foot-stool kneeling. Why wilt thou gloom for 2 Come, heavy laden, bending low, Come as thou canst, to Him returning; If thou art slow, He hastes to meet. Long hath He called with warm entreaty; So come, poor worm, this may relieve, 3 Say not: My sins are crimson dyed, I've scorned His mercy's richest treasure, His grace o'ersteps guilt's every mountain, Hope on, this word can all retrieve, My Savior sinners doth receive. 4 Yet say not: I may still delay, Taste of sin's joy, and be forgiven, God will not yet this very day Close the wide gate of grace and heaven. His gift He offers; hasten thou With both thy hands and seize it now; He who dreams on, by sin deluded, Will find himself at last excluded; 5 Friend of the sinner, in Thy grace, To us, to all the poor and needy. नै |