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Oh, come, thou weary soul, to Christ,
And lean upon his loving breast!
He'll comfort e'en the poorest one,
The weakest, and the most undone.


Oh, fly to him when danger's near!
He'll shield, and will dispel your fear.
One glance of his all-conqu'ring eye
Will cause the powers of hell to fly.


Come, O thou son-sick soul, and rest!
Come all and every one distressed!
For you he suffered pangs untold,
And in the arms of death grew cold.


He'll wipe away the falling tear,
And whisper words your heart to cheer,
And to thine eye of faith will show
That home to which we long to go.