I hear a voice, ’tis soft and sweet,
It bids my sin-sick soul rejoice;
The same was heard in Salem’s street,
And in the mountain’s cool retreat,
My Savior’s voice.
Sweeter than chiming bells,
Softer than evening rills,
The voice that tells of pardon—
Pardon, peace, and Heav’n.
When weary with my load of guilt,
I’ll not forget that
Christ is all;
For me His precious blood was spilt;
He sweetly says,
Come, if thou wilt;
How glad the call!
My soul is troubled like the sea,
The surging billows roll around;
But He who calmed far Galilee
Doth kindly say,
Peace be to thee;
How blest the sound!