I hear a voice that comes from far;
From Cal­va­ry it sounds abroad;
It soothes my soul, and calms my fear;
It speaks of par­don bought with blood.

And is it true, that ma­ny fly
The sound that bids my soul re­joice;
And ra­ther choose in sin to die,
Than turn an ear to mer­cy’s voice!

Alas for those! The day is near,
When mer­cy will be heard no more;
Then will they ask in vain to hear
The voice they would not hear be­fore.

With such, I own, I once ap­peared,
But now I know how great their loss;
For sweet­er sounds were ne­ver heard
Than mer­cy ut­ters from the cross.

But let me not for­get to own,
That if I dif­fer aught from those,
’Tis due to so­ver­eign grace alone,
That oft se­lects its proud­est foes.