8 How sweet and awful is the place,
With Christ within the doors;
While everlasting love displays
The choicest of her stores!

9 Here ev'ry bowel of our God
With soft compassion rolls;
Here peace and pardon bought with blood,
Is food for dying souls.

10 While all our hearts, and all our songs,
Join to admire the feast,
Each of us cries, with thankful tongues,
"Lord, why was I a guest?

11 "Why was I made to hear thy voice,
And enter while there's room;
When thousands make a wretched choice,
And rather starve than come?"

12 'Twas the same love that spread the feast,
That sweetly forc'd us in;
Else we had still refus'd to taste,
And perish'd in our sin.

13 Pity the hypocrites, O Lord,
Direct them how to come;
Teach them to know and fear thy word,
And bring the strangers home.

14 We long to see thy Churches full,
That all the chosen race
May with one voice, and heart, and soul,
Sing thy redeeming grace.