Or, Hymns Ancient and Modern, 252 and 27. I WEARY of earth and laden with my sin, But there no evil thing may find a home, And yet I hear a Voice that bids me, "Come." 2 So vile I am, how dare I hope to stand In the pure glory of that holy Land? Before the whiteness of that Throne appear? Yet there are Hands stretched out to draw me near. 3 The while I fain would tread the heavenly way, Yet on mine ears the gracious tidings fall, 'Repent, confess, thou shalt be loosed from all." 4 It is the Voice of Jesus that I hear, His are the Hands stretched out to draw me near, 5 'Twas He Who found me on the deathly wild, 8 Nought can I bring, dear Lord, for all I owe, Amen, I WE come to Thee, sweet Saviour! O life eternal won! O Blood of Mary's Son ! 2 We come to Thee, sweet Saviour! None will have us, Lord, save Thee, And we want none but Jesus, And His grace that makes us free. 3 We come to Thee, sweet Saviour! But Thy patience wearies never. 5 We come to Thee, sweet Saviour! 6 We come to Thee, sweet Saviour! 7 We come to Thee, sweet Saviour! 8 We come to Thee, sweet Saviour! And Thou wilt not ask us why; We cannot live without Thee, And still less without Thee die. O bountiful salvation! &c. Amen, |