A hand all bruised and bleeding
Is knocking at the door,
Is knocking at the door of your heart;
It is the hand of Jesus,
Who long has knocked before,
Though oft you have told Him to depart.
O don’t you hear Him knocking,
Knocking at the door?
He’s knocking at the door to come in;
He wants an invitation
To cross your threshold o’er,
Then Jesus will save you from all sin.
How often when in sickness,
Your body racked with pain,
This knocking resounded in your ears;
How often in the nighttime
The knock would come again,
So loud it would fill your soul with fears.
While standing by the casket
Of some departed friend,
With sorrow your heart was sick and sore;
What caused that train of thinking
Of how your life would end?
That hand was then knocking at the door.
Why will you keep Him knocking?
Why don’t you let Him in?
He’ll fill your pathway with delight;
That hand so torn and bleeding
Will wash away your sin;
O welcome the Savior in tonight!