Come in, O come! the door stands op­en now;
I knew Thy voice, Lord Je­sus, it was Thou;
The sun has set long since, the storms be­gin;
’Tis time for Thee, my Sav­ior, O come in!

Alas, ill or­dered shows the drea­ry room;
The house­hold stuff lies heaped amidst the gloom,
The table emp­ty stands, the couch un­dressed;
Ah, what a wel­come for th’eter­nal Guest!

Yet wel­come, and to­night this dole­ful scene
Is e’en it­self my cause to hail Thee in;
This dark con­fusion e’en at once de­mands
Thine own bright pre­sence,
Lord, and or­d’ring hands.

I seek no more to al­ter things, or mend,
Before the com­ing of so great a friend;
All were at best un­seem­ly, and ’twere ill
Beyond all else to keep Thee wait­ing still.

Come, not to find, but make this trou­bled heart
A dwell­ing wor­thy of Thee as Thou art;
To chase the gloom, the ter­ror, and the sin:
Come, all Thy­self, yea come, Lord Je­sus, in!