The King of Heav’n His Table Spreads

The King of Heav’n His ta­ble spreads

And dain­ties crown the board;

Not para­dise with all its joys

Could such de­light af­ford.

Pardon and peace to dy­ing men

And end­less life are giv’n

And the rich blood

that Je­sus shed

To raise the soul to Heav­en.

Ye hun­gry poor

that long have strayed

In sin’s dark maz­es

come:

Come from the hedg­es and high­ways

And grace shall find you room.

Millions of souls in glo­ry now

Were fed

and feast­ed here;

And mill­ions more

still on the way

Around the board ap­pear.

Yet is His house and heart so large

That mill­ions more may come;

Nor could the wide as­sem­bling world

O’er-fill the spa­cious room.

All things are rea­dy; come away

Nor weak ex­cus­es frame;

Crowd to your plac­es at the feast

And bless the Found­er’s name.