1 [Hark, the Redeemer from on high Sweetly invites his favourites nigh; From caves of darkness and of doubt, He gently speaks, and calls us out:
2 "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.
3 "Thy voice to me sounds ever sweet; "My graces in thy countenance meet; "Tho' the vain world thy face despise, "'Tis bright and comely in mine eyes."
4 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.]
5 [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.
6 My soul to pastures fair he leads, Amongst the lilies where he feeds; Amongst the saints (whose robes are white, Wash'd in his blood) is his delight.
7 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.
8 Be like a hart on mountains green, Leap o'er the hills of fear and sin; Nor guilt, nor unbelief divide My Love, my Saviour from my side.]