Classic Poem

S T . J OHN'S Tune .

How pleasant is the gate
Where willing converts wait
For fellowship with Zion here;
Where they with wonder tell
How they escap'd from hell,
And hope in glory to appear.

With wonder we attend
While they the sinners' Friend
With tears of holy joy extol;
Each heart, once hard as steel,
Now made for sin to feel,
Bears tokens of a ransom'd soul.

No more of self they boast,
They humbly own the cost
Of their salvation freely paid;
The sins which make them groan,
And must have sunk them down,
They now behold on Jesus laid.

No place to them so sweet
As Mary's at his feet,
To music equal to his name;
No doctrine they approve
But his redeeming love,
Which freely bore their sin and shame.

In him the law they view,
And the sweet gospel too;
With humble hope and holy fear,
Through his atoning blood,
They now draw nigh to God,
And his bright wedding garment wear.