The Sinner’s Invitation

Sinner

go

will you go

To the high lands of Heav­en?

Where the storms nev­er blow

And the long sum­mer’s giv­en:

Where the bright bloom­ing flow­ers

Are their od­ors emit­ting

And the leaves of the bow­ers

In the breez­es are flit­ting.

Where the saints robed in white—

Cleansed in life’s flow­ing foun­tain

Shining beau­te­ous and bright

They in­ha­bit the mount­ain.

Where no sin

nor dis­may

Neither trou­ble or sor­row

Will be felt for a day

Nor be feared for the mor­row.

He’s pre­pared thee a home—

Sinner

canst thou be­lieve it?

And in­vites thee to come

Sinner

wilt thou re­ceive it?

O come

sin­ner

come

For the tide is re­ced­ing

And the Sav­ior will soon

And for­ev­er cease plead­ing.