THE SAVIOUR'S INVITATION.
By Gettie W. Davis
“Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” O SINNER! come, while it is called to-day,
Thy Saviour speaks to thee in accents mild,
Hearest thou his pleading voice? He bids thee flee
Unto his sheltering arms, and find a balm
For all thy grief, a solace for thy woes.
For thee he left his glorious home on high,
For thee he groaned and died, his precious blood
Was shed that thou mightst pardon have from sin.
Within the garden of Gethsemane
He prayed, amid the chilling midnight dews,
Kneeling upon the cold, damp ground, while drops
Of blood fell from his sacred brow.
His soul was wrung with bitter anguish, such
As never falls unto the lot of man;
He bore the sins of earth for us, and bowed
In meek submission to his Father's will. Again behold him nailed to Calvary's cross,
A crown of thorns placed on his holy head,
Those tender feet, that ever trod the path
Of truth and right, are pierced with cruel nails.
Oh! what a scene! Angels refuse to look,
And Heaven and earth are vailed in deepest gloom,
While sinful man, alone, remains unmoved. And canst thou still such wondrous love resist,
And coldly from thy Saviour turn away?
Reject the offer of his pardoning grace,
Purchased for thee through sufferings like these?
Go, if thou wilt, and bow to mammon's shrine,
Join in the dance with folly's giddy train,
Prove for thyself the emptiness of earth,
The hollow mockery of worldly joys;
But when at last the evil days draw nigh,
And pleasures all have lost their charms for thee,
Oh! where will then thy consolation be,
If thou no refuge hast, no covert from
The storm, no safe abiding place in God?
Then haste thee, haste, one short, preparing hour
Alone remains, oh! make thy peace with God,
Then shalt thou find that rest the world cannot
Afford, beneath the shadow of his wings.