ISAIAH 55.
YE sons of men, who seek, and seek in vain,
For that which satisfies the craving heart;
Ye, who for wisdom rack the lab'ring brain;
Ye, that for riches crowd the busy mart;
Ye sons of pleasure, who excitement crave,
Drinking those drafts that make you thirst the more;
Ye, who for glory, death and dangers brave;
Ye full, yet empty; wealthy, and yet poor;-
Ye labor hard, but bread ye cannot gain;
Ye spend your money earned by feverish toil:
Naught that endures can all your wit obtain;
Naught that of death is not the certain spoil.
There is a man-a man in glory now-
“THE MAN OF SORROWS" was He for our sake;
A crown of thorns we put upon His brow,
And with our scorn His tender heart did break;
But still His love rose higher than our ill,
He would not save HIMSELF His foes to save;
Redemption's work He did alone fulfill;
Our sins He bore, and buried in His grave;
He cries-oh, hearken to His loving voice,
Behold His tears, His agonies, His blood
“Ye dying sons of men, Rejoice, Rejoice;
I am the Life, the Truth, the Way to God!”
“Come unto Me, ye weary ones, for rest;
Ye hungry, thirsty, helpless, come to Me;
There is a home of safety in My breast,
Peace in the blood I shed on Calvary:
Come unto Me, your souls shall then be fed;
Come unto Me, all other springs are dry;
Come, for I am the living, heavenly bread,
Drink from My side the streams that satisfy,
The fatness of God's house, the milk, the wine;
All, all are yours, if you will but be mine.”