Weary of earth, and laden with my sin,
I look at Heav�n and long to enter in,
But there no evil thing may find a home:
And yet I hear a voice that bids me �Come.�

So vile I am, how dare I hope to stand
In the pure glory of that holy land?
Before the whiteness of that throne appear?
Yet there are hands stretched out to draw me near.

The while I fain would tread the heav�nly way
Evil is ever with me day by day;
Yet on mine ears the gracious tidings fall:
�Repent, confess, thou shalt be loosed from all.�

It is the voice of Jesus that I hear;
His are the hands stretched out to draw me near,
And His the blood that can for all atone,
And set me faultless there before the throne.

�Twas He Who found me on the deathly wild,
And made me heir of Heav�n, the Father�s child,
And day by day, whereby my soul may live,
Gives me His grace of pardon, and will give.

O great Absolver, grant my soul may wear
The lowliest garb of penitence and prayer,
That in the Father�s courts my glorious dress
May be the garment of Thy righteousness.

Yea, Thou wilt answer for me, righteous Lord;
Thine all the merits, mine the great reward;
Thine the sharp thorns, and mine the golden crown;
Mine the life won, and Thine the life laid down.

Naught can I bring, dear Lord, for all I owe,
Yet let my full heart what it can bestow;
Like Mary�s gift, let my devotion prove,
Forgiven greatly, how greatly I love.