“I Come,” the Savior Cries

I come

the Sav­ior cries

Ye long­ing souls

I come;

Then gent­ly through the yield­ing skies

He bears His child­ren home.

Long has th’as­pir­ing saint

Stood wait­ing for the call

And joy­ful now with­out a plaint

Can leave this emp­ty ball.

His cheer­ful look be­speaks

A soul pre­pared to die;

Through all its bonds the spir­it breaks

Nor gives a part­ing sigh.

Of God and Heav’n pos­sessed

He now for­gets his cares;

Nor sor­row more dis­turbs his rest

Nor sin re­vives his fears.

But care­less sin­ners

who

In slum­bers spend their days

Shall pass through scenes of va­ri­ous woe

In one eter­nal maze.