1 With tearful eyes I look around;
Life seems a dark and stormy sea;
Yet, midst the gloom, I hear a sound,
A heavenly whisper, "Come to Me."
2 It tells me of a place of rest;
It tells me where my soul may flee:
O to the weary, faint, oppressed,
How sweet the bidding, "Come to Me."
3 When the poor heart with anguish learns
That earthly props resigned must be,
And from each broken cistern turns,
It hears the accents, "Come to Me."
4 When against sin I strive in vain,
And cannot from its yoke get free,
Sinking beneath the heavy chain,
The words arrest me, "Come to Me."
5 When nature shudders, loath to part
From all I love, enjoy, and see;
When a faint chill steals o'er my heart,
A sweet voice utters, "Come to Me.
6 "Come, for all else must fail and die;
Earth is no resting-place for thee,
Heavenward direct thy weeping eye,
I am thy Portion; come to Me."
7 O voice of mercy! voice of love!
In conflict, grief, and agony,
Support me, cheer me from above,
And gently whisper, "Come to Me."
The Hymnal: Published by the authority of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A., 1895
|First Line:||With tearful eyes I look around|
|Title:||Come to me|