Come, said Je­sus’ sacr­ed voice,
“Come, and make My paths your choice;
I will guide you to your home,
Weary pil­grim, hi­ther come.

“Thou who, house­less, sole, for­lorn,
Long hast borne the proud world’s scorn,
Long hast roamed the bar­ren waste,
Weary pil­grim, hi­ther haste.

“Ye who, tossed on beds of pain,
Seek for ease, but seek in vain;
Ye whose swoll­en, sleep­less eyes
Watch to see the morn­ing rise.

Ye, by fierc­er ang­uish torn,
In re­morse for guilt who mourn.
Here re­pose your hea­vy care:
Who the stings of guilt can bear?

Hither come, for here is found
Balm that flows for ev­ery wound,
Peace that ev­er shall en­dure,
Rest eter­nal, sacred, sure.