Ye wretch­ed, hung­ry, starv­ing poor,
Behold a roy­al feast!
Where mer­cy spreads her boun­te­ous store
For ev­ery hum­ble guest.

See, Je­sus stands with op­en arms;
He calls, He bids you come:
Guilt holds you back, and fear al­arms;
But see, there yet is room.

Room in the Sav­ior’s bleed­ing heart;
There love and pi­ty meet;
Nor will He bid the soul de­part
That trem­bles at His feet.

In Him, the Fa­ther re­con­ciled
Invites your souls to come;
The re­bel shall be called a child,
And kind­ly wel­comed home.

O come, and with His child­ren taste
The bless­ings of His love;
While hope at­tends the sweet re­past
Of nob­ler joys above.

There, with unit­ed heart and voice,
Before th’eter­nal throne,
Ten thou­sand, thou­sand souls re­joice,
In ec­sta­sies un­known.

And yet ten thou­sand, thou­sand more,
Are wel­come still to come;
Ye long­ing souls, the grace ad­ore,
Approach, there yet is room.