Listen to the blessed invitation,
Sweeter than the notes of angel-song,
Chiming softly with a heav’nly cadence.
Calling to the passing throng.
Him that cometh unto Me,
Him that cometh unto Me,
Him that cometh unto Me.
I will in no wise cast out.
Weary toiler, sad and heavy laden,
Joyfully the great salvation see;
Close beside thee stands the Burden-Bearer,
Strong to bear thy load for thee.
Come, ye thirsty, to the living waters,
Hungry, come and on His bounty feed;
Not thy fitness is the plea to bring Him,
But thy pressing utmost need.
“Him that cometh,” blind or maimed or sinful,
Coming for His healing touch divine,
For the cleansing of the blood so precious,
Prove anew this gracious line.
Coming humbly, daily to this Savior,
Breathing all the heart to Him in pray'r;
Coming some day to the heav’nly mansions,
He will give thee welcome there.
—E. E. HEWITT.