Behold where He stands at the door of thy heart,
O sin­ner, awake ere thy Sav­ior de­part;
He calls thee in mer­cy from dark­ness to light,
His locks are all wet with the dew of the night;
Long, long He has tar­ried, and wilt thou re­fuse
The path­way of life and sal­va­tion to choose?

On Je­sus thy sins and trans­gress­ions are laid,
Remember the gar­den, where lone­ly He prayed;
While stars at His ang­uish with­drew their pale light,
His locks were all wet with the dew of the night;
A lamb to the slaugh­ter, the Sav­ior was led,
He suf­fered in meek­ness, He lang­uished and bled.

Reject Him no long­er, ad­mit Him, thy guest,
To bring thee re­demp­tion, to of­fer thee rest;
He comes from the man­sions of glo­ry so bright,
His locks are all wet with the dew of the night;
Oh, wash in the fount­ain, still flow­ing for thee,
Whose wa­ters are bound­less, eter­nal, and free.