A stran­ger stands out­side the door,
And longs thy guest to be;
He knows thy name, for o’er and o’er
He soft­ly calls to thee!
His hands are pierced, His brow is torn,
His face is sad, but sweet—
It is the Lord of Pa­ra­dise!
Arise, thy Sav­ior greet.

Refrain

He was wound­ed for thy trans­gress­ions;
He was bruis­èd for thy sin;
Yet He stands at thy heart’s door plead­ing,
Why, O why not let Him in?

From lone­ly, dark Geth­se­ma­ne,
Thru Pi­late’s hall of shame,
Up ov­er cru­el Cal­va­ry,
To thee in love He came!
Despised! Re­ject­ed! Cru­ci­fied!
O love, O grace un­known,
That He should still re­mem­ber thee,
And claim thee for His own!

Refrain

Yet still He waits and calls to thee,
Although ye scarce can hear
The plead­ing voice, so oft­en has
It fall­en on thine ear:
O soul, arise and let Him in,
Lest from the bolt­ed door
In sor­row He should turn away,
To call for thee no more.

Refrain