Weary of earth, and laden with my sin,
I look at Heav’n and long to enter in,
But there no evil thing may find a home:
And yet I hear a voice that bids me “Come.”

So vile I am, how dare I hope to stand
In the pure glory of that holy land?
Before the whiteness of that throne appear?
Yet there are hands stretched out to draw me near.

The while I fain would tread the heav’nly way
Evil is ever with me day by day;
Yet on mine ears the gracious tidings fall:
“Repent, confess, thou shalt be loosed from all.”

It is the voice of Jesus that I hear;
His are the hands stretched out to draw me near,
And His the blood that can for all atone,
And set me faultless there before the throne.

O Jesus Christ, the righteous! live in me,
That when in glory I Thy face shall see,
Within the Father's house my glorious dress
May be the garment of Thy righteousness,

Then Thou wilt welcome me, O righteous Lord;
Thine all the merit, mine the great reward;
Mine the life won, and Thine the life laid down,
Thine the thorn-plaited, mine the righteous crown.