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SS & S 425

O word, of words the sweetest,
O word, in which there lie
All promise, all fulfillment,
And end of mystery!
Lamenting, or rejoicing,
With doubt or terror nigh,
I hear the “Come!” of Jesus,
And to his cross I fly.

“Come! . . . oh, come unto Me! . . .
Come! . .oh, come to Me!”
Weary, heavy-laden,
Come! Oh, come to Me!”

O soul, why shouldst thou wander
From such a loving Friend?
Cling closer, closer to Him,
Stay with Him to the end:
Alas! I am so helpless,
So very full of sin,
For I am ever wandering,
And coming back again.

Oh, each time draw me nearer,
That soon the “Come” may be
Naught but a gentle whisper,
To one close, close to Thee; 
Then, over the sea and mountain,
Far from or near my home,
I’ll take Thy hand and follow,
At that sweet whisper, “Come!”