Tune--Tyrolese Evening Hymn

Come, come, come, Come to the marriage feast Prepared for saints above; The Lord now bids his guests To the banquet-room of love. Oh! why should the tinseled toys Of this earth allure us here, While pure, immortal joys, Wait us in a happier sphere.

Chorus—Come, come, come, Come to the marriage feast, Prepared for saints above; The Lord now bids his guests To the banquet-room of love.

Come, come, come, Soon will the day be o'er, And hope's last hour be gone; And mercy's voice no more The day of grace prolong. Life yet we may secure; And the warning note is given, Make now your title sure To a lasting home in Heaven.

Come, come, come, The weary pilgrim there "Lays staff and sandals down" A conqueror's palm to bear, And an angel's glittering crown. Then all the scoffs we've borne, While this gloomy vale we've trod, "To lasting joys shall turn," In the city of our God.