1 He is pleading, by His sorrows,
By the bitter pain He bore,
For the comfort of your pity,—
That your heart should love Him more.
Can you think of Him heart-broken,
With His gentle Face so marred,
And pass on as tho’ ‘twere nothing,
That the outstretch’d Hands are scarred?

2 He is pleading, by your burdens,
By your weariness and smart,
By life’s wild unanswered questions,
And your emptiness of heart.
Will you keep your care, unheeding
The calm Voice that offers rest?
And your soul drift farther, farther,
From the shelter of that Breast?

3 He is pleading, by the glory
On the golden-pavèd street,
And the never-broken union
Where the souls made perfect meet;
Will you lose the pleasant pastures,
For the shore without a fold?
And the stillness of their waters,
For the torrent black and cold?

4 He is pleading, ever pleading,
Here below, as there above,
By the Father’s perfect pity,
And the Spirit’s tender love.
He is pleading, now is pleading
With the sheep that he hath found—
Yield your heart, your life to Jesus,
That His love may fold you round.