All ye who seek a com-fort sure
In trou-ble and dis-tress,
What-ev-er sor-row vex the mind,
Or guilt the soul op-press.
Je-sus, who gave Him-self for you
Up-on the cross to die,
O-pens to you His sa-cred heart;
O to that heart draw nigh.
Ye hear how kind-ly He in-vites;
Ye hear His words so blest--
'All ye that la-bor come to me,
And I will give you rest.'
O Je-sus, joy of saints on high,
Thou hope of sin-ners here,
At-tract-ed by those lov-ing words
To Thee I lift my prayer.
Wash Thou my wounds in that dear blood
Which forth from Thee did flow;
New grace, new hope in-spire, a new
And bet-ter heart be-stow.
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