|Text:||Come, Ye Disconsolate|
|Author (st. 1-2):||Thomas Moore|
|Author (st. 3):||Thomas Hastings|
1 Come, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish,
come to the mercy seat, fervently kneel:
here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
earth has no sorrows that heav'n cannot heal.
2 Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,
hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure!
Here speaks the Comforter, in mercy saying,
"Earth has no sorrows that heav'n cannot cure."
3 Here see the bread of life; see waters flowing
forth from the throne of God, pure from above.
Come to the feast prepared; come, ever knowing
earth has no sorrows but heav'n can remove.
|First Line:||Come, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish|
|Title:||Come, Ye Disconsolate|
|Author (st. 1-2):||Thomas Moore (1816, alt.)|
|Author (st. 3):||Thomas Hastings (1832)|
|Topic:||Christ: As Comforter; Christian Life; Funerals(4 more...)|
|Composer:||Samuel Webbe (1792)|