Turn, child of doubt, estranged from God!
To error’s joyless waste betrayed;
No light will there illume thy road,
No friendly voice will give thee aid.

O, turn, and leave that cheerless waste!
The shade of death,-the maze of woe!
There is a path that leads to rest,
A fount of life is given below.

Thy friend, thy Lord, from heaven revealed,
The lost, the erring, to recall,
That sacred fountain hath unsealed;
With voice of love he speaks to all.

He bids the dying wanderer turn,
To walk in duty’s way, and live;
He speaks to wounded souls that mourn,
He speaks,-to heal and to forgive.