1 |Come who will,| the voice from heaven,
Like a silver trumpet, calls;
|Come who will,| -- the church hath given
Back the echo from its walls.
2 Come, to rivers ever flowing
From the high, eternal throne;
Come, where God, his gifts bestowing,
In the church on earth is known.
3 Heavenly music! he who listens,
Longing for his spirit's home,
While his eye with rapture glistens,
Yearning says, -- |I come, I come!|