Lord, how large Thy boun­ties are,
Tender, gra­cious sin­ner’s friend;
What a feast dost Thou pre­pare,
And what in­vi­ta­tions send!
Now ful­fill Thy great de­sign,
Who didst first the mes­sage bring;
Every heart to Thee in­cline,
Now com­pel them to come in.

Rushing on the down­ward road,
Sinners no com­pul­sion need;
Heaven to for­sake, and God,
See, they run with ra­pid speed.
Draw them back by love di­vine—
With Thy grace their spir­its win;
Every heart to Thee in­cline;
Now com­pel them to come in.

Thus their will­ing souls com­pel—
Thus their hap­py minds con­strain,
From the ways of death and hell,
Home to God, and grace again.
Stretch that con­quer­ing arm of Thine,
Once stretched out to bleed for sin;
Every heart to Thee in­cline,
Now com­pel them to come in.