Have mercy, Lord, and here bestow unmerited free grace.
He’s knocking now! he’s wet with dew! Oh! let the Saviour in;
He’ll sup with you, and you with him; he’ll cleanse you from all sin.
He’ll shelter from the coming storm; no plague shall e’er come nigh;
He’ll hide from God’s avenging wrath, and you shall never die.
Life’s water pure is here: come, drink! ’tis freely offered still;
The Spirit and the Bride say, Come! Come, whosoever will.
The Love of Many is Waxed Cold.
Are we suffering persecution, trying God’s commands to keep?
Are our spirits crushed within us? Do we oft in silence weep?