Come, humble sinner, in whose breast A thousand thoughts revolve, Come, with your guilt and fear oppressed And make this last resolve. I'll go to Jesus, though my sin Hath like a mountain rose; I know His courts, I'll enter in, Whatever may oppose. Prostrate I'll lie before His throne, And there my guilt confess; I'll tell Him I'm a wretch undone, Without His sov'reign grace. I'll to the gracious King approach, Whose scepter pardon gives; Perhaps he will command my touch, And then the suppliant lives. Perhaps He will admit my plea, Perhaps will hear my pray'r; But if I perish, I will pray, And perish only there. I can but perish if I go; I am resolved to try; For if I stay away, I know I must forever die. But if I die with mercy sought, When I the King have tried, This were to die delightful thought! As sinner never died.