First Line: word, of words the sweetest,

word, of words the sweetest,
O word, in which there lie
All promise, all fulfilment,
Arid end of mystery !
Lamenting, or rejoicing,
With doubt or terror nigh,

I hear the Come ! of Jesus,
And to His cross I fly.
Come ! . . . oh, come to Me ! . . .
Come ! . . . oh, come to Me !
Weary, heavy-laden,
Come ! oh, come to Me !

2 O soul ! why shouldst thou wander
From such a loving Friend ?
Cling closer, closer to Him,
Stay with Him to the end :
Alas ! I am so helpless,
So very full of sin,
For I am ever wandering,
And coming back again.

3 Oh, each time draw me nearer,
That soon the Come may be
Naught but a gentle whisper,
To one close, close to Thee ;
Then, over sea and mountain,
Far from or near my home,
I'll take Thy hand and follow,
At that sweet whisper, Come !