Weary of earth, and laden with my sin,
I look at heaven 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 heavenly way,
Evil is ever with me day by day;
Yet on mine ears the gracious tidings fall,
"Repent, return, thou shalt be loosed from all."

Cease restless will! thy lonely strife resign!
I know too well how little strength is mine,
Grant me, dear Lord, Thy saving love to see!
I strive no more, I cast myself on Thee.