Come, humble sinner, in whose breast
A thousand thoughts revolve,
Come, with your guilt and fear oppressed
And make this last resolve.
I’ll go to Jesus, though my sin
Hath like a mountain rose;
I know His courts, I’ll enter in,
Whatever may oppose.
Prostrate I’ll lie before His throne,
And there my guilt confess;
I’ll tell Him I’m a wretch undone,
Without His sov’reign grace.
I’ll to the gracious King approach,
Whose scepter pardon gives;
Perhaps he will command my touch,
And then the suppliant lives.
Perhaps He will admit my plea,
Perhaps will hear my pray’r;
But if I perish, I will pray,
And perish only there.
I can but perish if I go;
I am resolved to try;
For if I stay away, I know
I must forever die.
But if I die with mercy sought,
When I the King have tried,
This were to die delightful thought!
As sinner never died.