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;
Oh! to the weary, faint, oppressed,
How sweet the bidding, 'Come to me.'

3 When nature shudders, loth 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,'

4 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.'

5 O voice of mercy! voice of love!
In conflict, grief and agony,
Support me, cheer me from above!
And gently whisper, 'Come to me.'