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.