Behold, a Stranger at the Door

Behold

a strang­er at the door!

He gent­ly knocks

has knocked be­fore

Has wait­ed long

is wait­ing still:

You treat no oth­er friend so ill.

O love­ly at­ti­tude! He stands

With melt­ing heart and la­den hands;

O match­less kind­ness! and He shows

This match­less kind­ness to His foes.

But will He prove a friend in­deed?

He will; the ve­ry friend you need;

The friend of sinners—yes

’tis He

With gar­ments dyed on Cal­va­ry.

Oh love­ly at­ti­tude! He stands

With melt­ing heart and la­den hands:

O match­less kind­ness! and He shows

This match­less kind­ness to His foes.

Rise

touched with gra­ti­tude di­vine;

Turn out His en­emy and thine

That hate­ful

hell-born mon­ster

sin

And let the heav­en­ly Strang­er in.

If thou art poor—and poor thou art—

Lo! He has rich­es to im­part;

Not wealth

in which mean ava­rice rolls;

O bet­ter far

the wealth of souls.

Thou’rt blind

He’ll take the scales away

And let in ev­er­last­ing day:

Naked thou art

but He shall dress

Thy blush­ing soul in right­eous­ness.

Art thou a weep­er? Grief shall fly

For who can weep with Je­sus by?

No ter­ror shall thy hopes an­noy

No tear—ex­cept the tear of joy.

Admit Him

for the hu­man breast

Ne’er en­ter­tained so kind a guest;

No mor­tal tongue their joys can tell

With whom He con­des­cends to dwell.

Admit Him

ere His an­ger burn

His feet de­part

ne’er to re­turn;

Admit Him

or the hour’s at hand

When at His door de­nied you’ll stand.

Yet know—nor of the terms com­plain—

If Je­sus comes

He comes to reign;

To reign

and with no par­tial say;

Thoughts must be slain that dis­ob­ey.

Sovereign of souls

Thou Prince of Peace

O may Thy gen­tle reign in­crease:

Throw wide the door

each will­ing mind;

And be His em­pire all man­kind.