5 Backsliders, who your mis'ry feel,
Attend your Saviour's call;
Return, he'll your backslidings heal;
O crown him Lord of all,

6 Tho' crimson sin increase your guilt,
And painful is your thrall;
For broken hearts his blood was spilt;
O crown him Lord of all.

7 Take with you words, approach his throne,
And low before him fall;
He understands the spirit's groan;
O crown him Lord of all.

8 Whoever comes he'll not cast out,
Altho' your faith be small;
His faithfulness you cannot doubt;
O crown him Lord of all.