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^42 The Book of Praise.
Poor child of sin and woe, Now listen to thy Father's pleading voice ;
No longer need'st thou go Without a friend to bid thy heart rejoice.
I know thou canst not rest Until thou art from guilt and sorrow free ;
Earth cannot make thee blest ; Come, bring thy suffering, bleeding heart to Me.
How often, in the hour Of weariness, would I have succoured thee!
But thou didst spurn the power, And scorn the heart that loved so tenderly.
Oh, what on earth appears To comfort thy distress and heal thy grief,
To dry thy bitter tears, And offer thy poor sinking soul relief ?
Thy life of sin has been A toilsome path, without one cheering ray ;
Now on thy Father lean, And He will guide thee in a better way.
Come, leave the desert land, And all the husks on which thy soul has fed ;
And trust the faithful Hand That offers thee a feast of living Bread.
O sinner ! 'tis the voice Of One, who Long has loved and pitied thee \
He would thy heart rejoice, And set thee from all sin and suffering free*