[Hark! the Redeemer from on high

Sweetly invites his fav'rites nigh;

From caves of darkness and of doubt,

He gently speaks, and calls us out.

"My dove, who hidest in the rock,

Thine heart almost with sorrow broke,

Lift up thy face, forget thy fear,

And let thy voice delight mine ear.

"Thy voice to me sounds ever sweet;

My graces in thy count'nance meet;

Though the vain world thy face despise,

'Tis bright and comely in mine eyes."

Dear Lord, our thankful heart receives

The hope thine invitation gives;

To thee our joyful lips shall raise

The voice of prayer and of praise.]

[I am my Love's, and he is mine;

Our hearts, our hopes, our passions join;

Nor let a motion, nor a word,

Nor thought, arise to grieve my Lord.

My soul to pastures fair he leads,

Amongst the lilies where he feeds

Amongst the saints, whose robes are white,

Washed in his blood, is his delight.

Till the day break, and shadows flee,

Till the sweet dawning light I see,

Thine eyes to me-ward often turn,

Nor let my soul in darkness mourn.

Be like a hart on mountains green,

Leap o'er the hills of fear and sin;

Nor guilt nor unbelief divide

My Love, my Savior, from my side.]