Hush, my soul, what voice is plead­ing?
Thou canst feel its si­lent pow­er;
Who is this that speaks so gent­ly
In this so­lemn ev­en­ing hour?
Stay, poor sin­ner; life is fleet­ing,
And thy soul is dark with­in;
Wilt thou wait till out­er dark­ness
Close in gloom thy life of sin?

Hark! it is a voice of sweet­ness,
Tenderly it speaks, and true!
Dark and sad, yet strange­ly yearn­ing,
For a peace I ne­ver knew.
Half in­clined to stay and list­en,
Half in­clined to go away;
Still I lin­ger, for it whis­pers,
Harden not thy heart to­day.

What is this that steals be­side me?
Can it be that at my side,
In His own mys­te­ri­ous pre­sence,
Stands the won­drous Cru­ci­fied?
Why poor sin­ner, wilt thou lin­ger?
I am wait­ing to for­give;
See the mean­ing of these wound prints;
I have died that thou may­est live!

Hush, my soul! It is thy Sav­ior!
And He seeks His lost one now;
He is wait­ing, flee not from Him,
Venture near, be­fore Him bow;
Tell Thy sins; He will for­give thee;
And He will not love thee less;
For the hu­man heart of Je­sus
Overflows with ten­der­ness.