Come, humble sinner, in whose breast
A thousand thoughts revolve;
Come, with your guilt and fear oppressed,
And make this last resolve.

I’ll go to Jesus, though my sin
Hath like a mountain rose,
I know His courts, I’ll enter in
Whatever may oppose.

Prostrate I’ll lie before His throne,
And there my guilt confess;
I’ll tell Him I’m a wretch undone
Without His sovereign grace.

I’ll to the gracious King approach,
Whose sceptre pardon gives;
Perhaps He may command my touch,
And then the suppliant lives.

Perhaps He will admit my plea,
Perhaps will hear my prayer,
But if I perish, I will pray,
And perish only there.

I can but perish if I go;
I am resolved to try;
For, if I stay away, I know
I must for ever die.

But if I die, with mercy sought,
When I the King have tried,
This were to die (delightful thought!)
As sinner never died.