Classic Poem

HYMN III.

C OME , lowly souls, that mourn,
Depress'd with guilt and shame:
Wash'd in your Saviour's sacred blood,
Now call upon his name.

Rejoice, ye contrite hearts,
That tremble at his word,
In the baptismal laver plung'd,
As was your humble Lord.

Bath'd in repenting tears,
The sins which you deplore,
Dead in your Saviour's grave shall lie,
And shall be seen no more:

Come, pious candidates,
Of grace and glory too:
Praise your Redeemer's love; and tell
What he has done for you.

Unspotted robes you wear;
Your sighs to songs are turn'd;
Garments of praise adorn you now,
Who late in ashes mourn'd.

Your Lord and you are risen,
Aspire to things above:
Where he resides, there you shall dwell
In realms of light and love.