Who of the great, or wise,
Hath our re­port be­lieved!
Alas! they close their eyes,
Nor will be un­de­ceived:
The world cry out, in need­less fright,
Your rash at­tempt for­bear
To lift us to pre­sump­tion’s height,
Or plunge us in des­pair.

Whoever seek to know
Their sins on earth for­giv­en,
Or sink in hope­less woe,
Or rise to mad­ness driv­en.
They safe­ly choose the mid­dle way,
Aware of each ex­treme,
The on­ly pru­dent men are they,
And wis­dom dies with them.

The say­ings of our Lord
Their fol­ly dares des­pise,
Above the writ­ten Word,
To their own ru­in, wise;
The writ­ten Word, by which we steer
From all mis­take secure,
It bids us make our call­ing here
And our elect­ion sure.

It bids the wea­ry come,
And find in Christ their rest,
Invites the wan­der­er home
To his Re­deem­er’s breast;
It stirs us up to knock, and pray,
And seek the par­don­ing God,
Till Je­sus take our sins away,
And wash us in His blood.

It prof­fers hap­pi­ness
To all who dare be­lieve,
And pro­mis­es a peace,
Which man can ne­ver give;
With full as­sur­ance of be­lief
Commands us to draw near,
And taste the joy that casts out grief,
The love that casts out fear.

Water of life di­vine,
It bids us free­ly take,
And mys­tic milk and wine
For Je­sus’ on­ly sake:
The Ho­ly Ghost, the Com­fort­er
To all who ask is giv’n,
That seal of our sal­va­tion here,
That an­te­past of Hea­ven.

But still the world re­fuse
A Hea­ven be­gun be­low,
And vain­ly fear t’abuse
The grace they ne­ver know:
The grace their pride will not re­ceive
They im­pious­ly de­ny,
And in their sins se­cure­ly live,
And des­per­ate­ly die.