WEARY of earth, and laden with my sin, I look at Heaven 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.
How can a sinner tread the heavenly way? Evil is ever with me day by day; Yet, from the Lord, I hear a gracious call: ‘Repent, believe, and be released 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 me atone, And set me faultless there before the throne.
There, Thou wilt answer for me, righteous Lord; Thine all the merit, mine the great reward; Thine the sharp thorns, and mine the golden crown; Mine the life won, and Thine the life laid down.
Samuel John Stone, 1839-1900