Sinners, Obey the Gracious Call

Sinners

ob­ey the gra­cious call

Unto the Lord your God re­turn

The dire oc­ca­sion of your fall—

Your fool­ish­ness of fol­ly mourn.

Sin on­ly hath your ru­in been;

In hum­ble words your grief ex­press

Turn to the Lord: Your shame­ful sin

The bur­den of your soul

con­fess.

God of all pow­er

and truth

and grace

All our ini­qui­ty re­move

Spare and ac­cept a fall­en race

God of all pow­er

and truth

and love

Take all

take all our sins away

Nor guilt

nor pow­er

nor be­ing have

Forgive us now

Thine arm dis­play

Thine own for Je­sus’ sake re­ceive.

So will we ren­der Thee the praise

With joy­ful lips and hearts re­newed

Present Thee all our sin­less days

A liv­ing sac­ri­fice to God.

So will we trust in man no more

No more to man for suc­cor fly

The works of our own hands ad­ore

Or seek our­selves to jus­ti­fy.

Not by an arm of flesh

but Thine

We look from sin to be set free;

O Love

O Right­eous­ness di­vine

The help­less all find help in Thee.

Surely in Me

your God re­plies

“The fa­ther­less shall mer­cy find

Whoe’er on Me for help re­lies

Shall know the Sav­ior of man­kind.

“I (for my Son hath died to seal

Their peace

and all My wrath re­move)

I will their sin-sick spir­its heal

And free­ly the back­slid­ers love.

I will My sov­er­eign art dis­play

To per­fect health their soul re­store

And take their bent to sin away

And lift them up to fall no more.

“In bless­ings will I then come down

And wa­ter them with gra­cious dew

And all My for­mer mer­cies crown

And ev­ery par­doned soul re­new.

Israel shall as the li­ly grow

As chaste

as beau­ti­ful

and white

Yet strik­ing deep his roots be­low

And tow­er­ing as the ce­dar’s height.

“His branch­ing arms he wide shall spread

And flour­ish in eter­nal bloom—

Fair as the ol­ive’s ver­dant shade

Fragrant as Le­ba­non’s per­fume.

Whoe’er be­neath his sha­dow dwell

Shall as the pu­trid corn re­vive

A mor­tal quick­en­ing vir­tue feel

And sink to rise

and die to live.

“Their boughs with fruit am­bro­si­al crowned

As Le­ba­non’s thick-clus­ter­ing vine

Shall spread their od­ors all around

Grateful to hu­man taste

and Mine.

Ephraim

my plea­sant child

shall say

‘With id­ols what have I to do?

I can­not sin: get hence away

Vain world! I can­not stoop to you.’

‘God

on­ly God hath all my heart

My vile id­ol­atries are o’er

I can­not now from God de­part

For

born of God

I sin no more.’

Whoe’er to this high prize as­pire

And long My ut­most grace to prove

I heard

and marked their heart’s de­sire

And I will per­fect them in love.

Beneath My love’s al­migh­ty shade

O Is­ra­el

sit

and rest se­cure

On Me thy qui­et soul be stayed

Till pure as I thy God am pure.

Surely I will My peo­ple save;

Who on My faith­ful word de­pend

Their fruit to ho­li­ness shall have

And glo­ri­ous all to Heav­en as­cend.