On the thresh­old lo! there stand­eth
One whose voice we’ve heard before;
And He pa­tient­ly de­mand­eth
Entrance at the clos­èd door:
Guilty sin­ner, let me in!
I have come to cleanse your sin.

Hark! how ten­der­ly He’s plead­ing,
I am stand­ing at the door;
Whilst the sin­ner, still un­heed­ing,
Keeps it barred as here­to­fore.
But the scep­tered king­ly hand
Still an en­trance doth de­mand.

’Tis the Sav­ior, long re­ject­ed,
Wakes the ech­oes of the heart;
’Tis His voice, so long ne­glect­ed,
Bids our ev­il guests de­part;
And Him­self our guest would stay,
Keeping ev­il foes away.

O, be­hold His side so pierc­èd,
Wounded hands and feet and brow;
By His wounds from sin re­leas­èd,
We may hail Him Sav­ior now;
Coming, He would give us rest,
All by Him so long un­blest.

Come Thou in! no long­er stand­ing
Knocking at our heed­less heart;
Come, and all our soul com­mand­ing,
Never more from thence de­part.
Be our guest, and be our Lord,
Crown and joy and great re­ward.