Come, said Jesus’ sacred voice,
Come, and Make my paths your choice;
I will guide you to your home,
Weary pilgrim, hither come.

Thou, who homeless, sole, forlorn,
Long hast born the proud world’s scorn,
Long hast roamed the barren waste,
Weary pilgrim, hither haste.

Ye who tossed on beds of pain,
Seek for ease, but seek in vain,
Ye whose swoll’n and sleepless eyes
Watch to see the morning rise.

Sinners, come, for here is found
Balm that flows from ev’ry wound—
Peace that ever shall endure,
Rest eternal, sacred, sure