1 Hark! the Redeemer from on high
Sweetly invites His favorites nigh;
From caves of darkness and of doubt,
He gently speaks and calls us out:

2 “My dove, who hidest in the rock,
Thine heart almost with sorrow broke,
Lift up thy face, forget thy fear,
And let thy voice delight Mine ear.

3 Thy voice to Me sounds ever sweet.
My graces in thy countenance meet;
Tho’ the vain world thy face despise,
’Tis bright and comely in mine eyes.

4 Dear Lord, our thankful heart receives
The hope Thine invitation gives;
To Thee our joyful lips shall raise
The voice of prayer and of praise.

5 I am my love’s, and He is mine;
Our hearts, our hopes, our passions join;
Nor let a motion, nor a word,
Nor thought arise, to grieve my Lord.

6 My soul to pastures fair He leads
Amongst the lilies where He feeds;
Amongst the saints—whose robes are white
Washed in His blood—is His delight.

7 Till daybreak come and shadows flee,
Till sweet returning dawn I see,
Thine eyes to me-ward often turn,
Nor let my soul in darkness mourn.

8 Be like a hart on mountains green,
Leap over hills of fear and sin;
Nor guilt, nor unbelief, divide
My love, my Savior, from my side.