Weary soul, by care oppressed,
Wouldst thou find a place of rest?
Listen, Jesus calls to thee,
Come, and find thy rest in me!
Hungry soul, why pine and die
With exhaustless stores so nigh?
Lo, the board is spread for thee,
Come, and feast to-day with me!
Thirsty soul, earth's sweetest rill
Mocks thee with its promise still;
Hark, the Saviour calls to thee,
Here is water, come to me!
Homeless soul, thy path is drear,
Angry tempests gather near,
Night is darkening over thee,
Here is shelter, come to me!
Heavenly bread and heavenly wine,
Living waters, all are mine!—
Mine they are, and thine may be,
Weary wand'rer, come to me!