Written By H Burton

Come, for the feast is spread;
Hark to the call!
Come to the Living Bread,
Broken for all;
Come to His house of wine,
Low on His breast recline,
All that He hath is thine;
Come, sinner, come.

Come where the fountain flows,
River of life
Healing for all thy woes,
Doubting and strife;
Millions have been supplied,
No one was e’er denied;
Come to the crimson tide,
Come, sinner, come.

Come to the throne of grace,
Boldly draw near;
He who would win the race
Must tarry here;
Whate’er thy want may be,
Here is the grace for thee,
Jesus, thy only plea,
Come, Christian, come.

Come to the Better Land,
Pilgrim, make haste!
Earth is a foreign strand
Wilderness waste!
Here are the harps of gold,
Here are the joys untold!
Crowns for the young and old;
Come, pilgrim, come.

Jesus, we come to Thee,
O, take us in!
Set Thou our spirits free;
Cleanse us from sin!
Then, in yon land of light,
Clothed in our robe of white,
Resting not day nor night,
Thee, will we sing.


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