Behold, I come, the Sav­ior cries,
“With wing­èd speed I come;
My voice shall call your souls away
To their eter­nal home.

“Awake, ye sons of sloth, awake;
Your vain amuse­ments cease;
And strive with your unit­ed po­wers,
That ye be found in peace.

“Seize the blest hour with ar­dent haste,
Nor slight this peace­ful word,
Lest your af­fright­ed souls in vain
Fly from My flam­ing sword.

Happy the man, whose rea­dy heart
Obeys the sac­red call;
And shel­ters in My co­ve­nant grace
His ev­er­last­ing all.

Blest Je­sus, whose all search­ing eye
My in­most po­wers can see,
Dost Thou not know my will­ing soul
Has lodged that all with Thee?

These ea­ger eyes Thy sig­nal wait;
My dear Re­deem­er, come;
I rove a wea­ry pil­grim here,
And long to be at home.