Come, ye souls, by sin afflicted,

Come, ye souls, by sin afflicted,
Bowed with fruitless sorrow down;
By the broken law convicted,
Through the cross behold the crown!
Look to Jesus;
Mercy flows through him alone.

Sweet as home to pilgrims weary,
Light to newly-opened eyes,
Flowing springs in deserts dreary,
Is the rest the cross supplies;
All who taste it
Shall to rest immortal rise.

Blessèd are the eyes that see him;
Blest the ears that hear his voice;
Blessèd are the souls that trust him,
And in him alone rejoice;
His commandments
Then become their happy choice.

But to sing the "Rest remaining,"
Mortal tongues far short must fall;
Heavenly tongues are ever aiming,
But they cannot tell it all;
Faith believes it - Hope expects it -
But it overwhelms them all.