From the Gadsby Hymnal

Come, ye souls, by sin afflicted,

Bowed with fruitless sorrow down;

By the broken law convicted,

Through the cross behold the crown!

Look to Jesus;

Mercy flows through him alone.

Sweet as home to pilgrims weary,

Light to newly-opened eyes,

Flowing springs in deserts weary;

Is the rest the cross supplies;

All who tastes it

Shall to rest immortal rise.

Blessed are the eyes that see him;

Blest the ears that hear his voice;

Blessed are the souls that trust him,

And in him alone rejoice;

His commandments

Then become their happy choice.

But to sing the "Rest remaining,"

Mortal tongues far short must fall;

Heavenly tongues are ever aiming,

But they cannot tell it all;

Faith believes it - Hope expects it - 

But it overwhelms them all.

Joseph Swain (1761-1796)