5 Endless the separation then,
  Bitter the cry of deluded men,
Awful that moment beyond all ken,
  When the King comes in.

6 Lord, grant us all, we implore thee, grace,
  So to await thee each in his place,
That we may fear not to see thy face
  When thou comest in.

     J.E.  Landor.

231 When the Door is Shut.  P.M.

The Present Invitation.

The door of salvation is open wide,
  And Jesus invites you to come;
While mercy and pardon await within,
  Oh, enter while yet there is room.

Ref.—­When the door once is shut,
        To entreat will be vain;
      ’Twill never, no, never
        Be opened again.

2 The feast of the gospel awaits its guests,
  The day and the hour are at hand;
Ye hungry and perishing souls, draw near;
  Oh, why do you doubtingly stand?

3 Dear friends, if you ever should stand without,
  And plead for admittance in vain,
You’d think of the Savior’s entreating voice,
  And long for this moment again.

     M. E. Servoss.

232 Hebron.  L.M.

My Yoke is Easy, My Burden Light. (495)

Oh, that my load of sin were gone;
  Oh, that I could at last submit
At Jesus’ feet to lay it down—­
  To lay my soul at Jesus’ feet.

2 Rest for my soul I long to find;
  Savior of all, if mine thou art,
Give me the meek and lowly mind,
  And stamp thine image on my heart.

3 Break off the yoke of inbred sin,
  And fully set my spirit free;
I cannot rest till pure within—­
  Till I am wholly lost in thee.

4 Fain would I learn of thee, my God;
  Thy light and easy burden prove;
The cross all stained with hallowed blood,
  The labor of thy dying love.

5 I would, but thou must give the power;
  My heart from every sin release;
Bring near, bring near the joyful hour,
  And fill me with thy perfect peace.

     Charles Wesley, 1742.

233 Hebron.  L.M.

Pardon Penitently Implored. (493)

Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive;
  Let a repenting rebel live;
Are not thy mercies large and free? 
  May not a sinner trust in thee?

2 My crimes, though great, cannot surpass
  The power and glory of thy grace;
Great God, thy nature hath no bound,
  So let thy pard’ning love be found.

3 Oh, wash my soul from every sin,
  And make my guilty conscience clean;
Here, on my heart, the burden lies
  And past offenses pain mine eyes.

4 My lips with shame my sins confess,
  Against thy law, against thy grace;
Lord, should thy judgment grow severe,
  I am condemned, but thou art clear.

5 Yet save a trembling sinner, Lord,
  Whose hope, still hovering round thy word,
Would light on some sweet promise there,
  Some sure support against despair.