Hark! the Redeemer from on high
Sweetly invites His favorites nigh;
From caves of darkness and of doubt,
He gently speaks and calls us out:
“My dove, who hidest in the rock,
Thine heart almost with sorrow broke,
Lift up thy face, forget thy fear,
And let thy voice delight Mine ear.
Thy voice to Me sounds ever sweet.
My graces in thy countenance meet;
Tho’ the vain world thy face despise,
’Tis bright and comely in mine eyes.
Dear Lord, our thankful heart receives
The hope Thine invitation gives;
To Thee our joyful lips shall raise
The voice of prayer and of praise.
I am my love’s, and He is mine;
Our hearts, our hopes, our passions join;
Nor let a motion, nor a word,
Nor thought arise, to grieve my Lord.
My soul to pastures fair He leads
Amongst the lilies where He feeds;
Amongst the saints—whose robes are white
Washed in His blood—is His delight.
Till daybreak come and shadows flee,
Till sweet returning dawn I see,
Thine eyes to me-ward often turn,
Nor let my soul in darkness mourn.
Be like a hart on mountains green,
Leap over hills of fear and sin;
Nor guilt, nor unbelief, divide
My love, my Savior, from my side.