The Master's Invitation

Dear lord, thy table is outspread; What other could such feast afford? And thou art waiting at the head, But I am all unworthy, Lord; Yet do I hear thee say,— (Was ever love so free?) Come hither, son, to-day And sit and sup with me. O master! I am full of doubt, My heart with sin and fear defiled; Come thou, and cast the tempter out, And make me as a little child; Methinks I hear thee say,— Come thou, at once, and see What love can take away, And what confer on thee. My Lord! to thee I fain would go, Yet tarry now I know not why; Speak, if to tell what well I know, That none are half so vile as I. What do I hear thee say?— Look, trembling one, and see These tokens, which to-day Tell what I did for thee. Nay, Lord! I could not here forget What thou didst for my ransom give; The garden prayer, the bloody sweat, All this and more, that I might live. I hear thee sadly say,— If this remembered be, Why linger thus to-day? Why doubt and question me? Oh, love to angels all unknown! I turn from sin and self aside; Thou hast the idol self o’erthrown, I only see the Crucified; I only hear thee say,— A feast is spread for thee On this and every day, If thou but follow me!