O turn ye, O turn ye, for why will ye die,
When God, in great mer­cy, is com­ing so nigh?
Now Je­sus in­vites you, the Spir­it says Come!
And an­gels are wait­ing to wel­come you home.

How vain the de­lu­sion, that while you de­lay
Your hearts may grow bet­ter, your chains melt away!
Come guil­ty, come wretch­ed, come just as you are;
All help­less and dy­ing, to Je­sus re­pair.

The con­trite in heart he will free­ly re­ceive,
O why will you not the glad mes­sage be­lieve?
If sin be your bur­den, why will you not come?
’Tis you He makes wel­come, He bids you come home.