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!