Come to His house of wine, low on His breast recline,
All that He has is thine; come, sinner, come.
2
Come where the fountain flows, river of life;
Healing for all thy woes, doubting, and strife.
Millions have been supplied; no one was e’er denied;
Come to the crimson tide; come, sinner, come.
3
Come to the throne of grace, boldly draw near;
He who would win the race must tarry here.
Whate’er thy want may be, here is the grace for thee,
Jesus thine only plea; come, sinner, come.
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