“Come who will,” the voice from heaven,

Like a silver trumpet, calls;

“Come who will,”—the church hath given

Back the echo from its walls.

Come, to rivers ever flowing

From the high, eternal throne;

Come, where God, his gifts bestowing,

In the church on earth is known.

Heavenly music! he who listens,

Longing for his spirit’s home,

While his eye with rapture glistens,

Yearning says,—“I come, I come!”