1 Come, sinners, saith the mighty God,
Henious as all your crimes have been,
Lo! I descend from mine abode,
To reason with the sons of men.

2 No clouds of darkness veil my face,
No vengeful lightnings flash around;
I come with terms of life and peace;
Where sin hath reign'd let grace abound.

3 Yes, Lord, we will obey thy call,
And to thy gracious sceptre bow;
O make our crimson sins like wool,
Our scarlet crimes as white as snow.

5 So shall our thankful lips repeat
Thy praises with a tuneful voice,
While humbly prostrate at thy feet,
We wonder, tremble, and rejoice.