The Savior calleth, sinful one,
With outstretched arms to thee appeals;
And art thou cold and hard as stone,
That neither loves nor feels?
Christian, Christian, kneel and weep,
Shake away dull sense of sleep,
That o’er thy spirit steals.
The Son of God felt want and pain,
Before He Heaven’s throne attained,
And thou! without a fight and strain,
Think’st victory can be gained?
Christian, Christian, wrestle sore:
Narrow way and straitest door
Must never be disdained.
Behold Him dyed, from foot to crown,
With purple blood, with anguish-streams,
And thou wouldst drift life’s river down,
In listless summer dreams.
Christian, Christian, watch and pray
In thy brief, thy trial day,
As Christian men beseems.
The cross of pain is David’s key
That opes the pearly doors of light,
The upward path, a rugged way,
That leads to Heaven’s height.
Christian, Christian, ever press
Over hardships, through distress
And battle, to delight.