Without Awaiting At The Threshold


Without, awaiting at the threshold,
Is a stranger pleading in an undertone,
At noonday and the silent midnight slumb’ring,
At break of day and in the twilight gloom.
When hope is bright, or dark’ning clouds are low’ring;
Waiting since thy childhood’s early dawn,
The Prince of peace, the Father’s only Son,
Wills to make thy heart His royal throne.

Without, awaiting at the threshold,
Is a faithful Friend you’ve slighted o’er and o’er;
With pierced hands and thorn-marks on His forehead,
The human heart could ask for nothing more.
His visage, marred by Calv’ry’s cruel anguish,
Tells of love thy bosom hath not known;
The well-beloved, the Father’s chosen One-
Waiting still to claim thee for His own.

Without, awaiting at the threshold,
With His mantle dampened by the falling dew-
Another friend long since would have departed-
In patient love He lingers still for you.
He bore our grief and carried all our sorrows;
Let Him wait no longer there alone;
In penitence requite the Guest unknown;
Bid Him come, thy heart to make His throne.

Refrain :
Sinner, will you let Him in?
Turn, oh, turn Him not away.