159. 8 & 7s. M. Anonymous. Invitation. 1 "Come who will," the voice from heaven, Like a silver trumpet, calls; "Come who will,"--the church hath given Back the echo from its walls. 2 Come, to rivers ever flowing From the high, eternal throne; Come, where God, his gifts bestowing, In the church on earth is known. 3 Heavenly music! he who listens, Longing for his spirit's home, While his eye with rapture glistens, Yearning says,--"I come, I come!" 160. 11 & 10s. M. Anonymous. "Come unto Me." 1 Come unto me, when shadows darkly gather, When the sad heart is weary and distrest, Seeking for comfort from your Heavenly Father, Come unto me, and I will give you rest! 2 Ye who have mourned when the spring-flowers were taken, When the ripe fruit fell richly to the ground, When the loved slept, in brighter homes to waken, Where their pale brows with spirit-wreaths are crowned; 3 Large are the mansions in thy Father's dwelling, Glad are the homes that sorrows never dim; Sweet are the harps in holy music swelling, Soft are the tones which raise the heavenly hymn; 4 There, like an Eden blossoming in gladness, Bloom the fair flowers the earth too rudely pressed; Come unto me, all ye who droop in sadness, Come unto me, and I will give you rest. 161. 8, 7, & 4s. M. Anonymous. The Weary and Heavy-Laden. 1 Come to Jesus, O my brothers, Come in this accepted hour; Jesus ready stands to save you, Full of pity, love, and power; He is able, He is willing,--doubt no more. 2 Let not conscience make you linger, Nor of fitness fondly dream; All the fitness he requireth Is to feel your need of him; This he gives you,-- 'Tis the spirit's struggling beam. 3 Come, ye weary, heavy laden; Wait not,--'tis your Saviour's call; If you tarry till you're better, You will never come at all. Not the righteous, Sinners, Jesus came to call. 162. P. M. Moore. Come, Ye Disconsolate. 1 Come, ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish; Come, at the shrine of God fervently kneel! Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish; Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal. 2 Joy of the desolate, light of the straying, Hope, when all others die, fadeless and pure, Here speaks the Comforter, in God's name saying, Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure.