All ye who seek a comfort sure
In trouble and distress,
Whatever sorrow vex the mind,
Or guilt the soul oppress:
Jesus, who gave Himself for you
Upon the Cross to die,
Opens to you His sacred Heart;
O to that Heart draw nigh.
Ye hear how kindly he invites;
Ye hear His words so blest:
“All ye that labour come to Me,
And I will give you rest.”
O Jesus, joy of Saints on high,
Thou hope of sinners here,
Attracted by those loving words
To Thee I life my prayer.
Wash thou my wounds in that dear Blood,
Which forth from Thee doth flow;
New grace, new hope inspire, a new
And better heart bestow.
Happy Sunday!
Tomorrow, we are off to Dornoch.
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