Text: | Good Friday |
Author: | Hart |
1 Come, poor sinners, come away;
In meditation sweet,
Let us go to Golgotha,
And kiss our Saviour’s feet.
Let us in his wounded side
Wash till we every whit are clean;
That’s the fountain opened wide
For filthiness and sin.
2 [Zion’s mourners, cease your fear;
For lo! the dying Lamb
Utterly forbids despair
To all that love his name.
Him your fellow-sufferer see;
He was in all things like to you.
Are you tempted? So was he.
Deserted? He was too.]
3 Jesus, our Redeemer, shed
For us his vital blood,
We, through our victorious Head
Can now come near to God.
Sin and sorrow may distress;
But neither shall us quite control;
Christ has perfect holiness
For every sin-sick soul.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Come, poor sinners, come away |
Title: | Good Friday |
Author: | Hart |
Meter: | 7.6.8. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1844 |