THEY spake of old to him who sat
In blindness by the way,
Of CHRIST THE LORD, Who, drawing near,
Could turn his night to day.
But still he lingered, trembling there,
Till o’er that living sea
The words of welcome reached his ear,
“ARISE, HE CALLETH THEE!”
And still those words from heaven fall
On every sinner’s ear;
And still the Lord delights to bid
The trembling soul draw near.
The old, the young, the rich, the poor,
He calls from wrath to flee,
And from the death-like sleep of sin
“ARISE, He calleth THEE!”
He saw thee when, a “great way off,”
Thou hadst no thought of Him;
The door of grace Ile open threw,
And seeks to bring thee in.
A child within its Father’s home,
So happy and so free,
He longs to have you with Himself,
“Arise, HE CALLETH thee!”
From all the joys this world affords,
Which perish in a day,
The gilded snares which Satan spreads
To lead your steps astray;
From sin, from guilt however great,
From want, from misery,
From all the sorrows of this life,
“ARISE, HE CALLETH THEE!”
―Anon.
In Cicero and Plato and other such authors, I find many an acute saying, many a word that kindles the emotions: but in none do I find these words: “Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.”— Augustine.