1 Come, youthful sinners, come, haste to the Saviour,
Come, ye young wanderers, cling to his side;
Kneel at his mercy-seat, sue for his favor,
Lambs of his bosom, for whom he hath died.
Come to his temple gate, come in life's morning;
Give up your souls to the Guide of your youth;
How fair is grace, the young bosom adorning!
What robe so pure as the raiment of truth?
2 Can you find pleasure in pathways unholy?
Hope ye for wisdom in wand'ring from God?
Sorrow and shame waft the vot'ries of folly,
Earth has no comfort not found in his blood.
Has he not died for you? gaze on his passion:
There see the tokens of sorrow and love;
Lives he not now for you? Jesus, the Saviour,
Bled and ascended to crown you above.