COME, YE DISCONSOLATE

Come, ye disconsolate, where’er ye languish,
Come to the mercy seat, fervently kneel.
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.

Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,
Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure!
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,
“Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure.”

Here see the bread of life, see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above.
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but heaven can remove.

About the writer: Thomas Moore, the noted Irish poet, was born in Dublin in 1779. He graduated from Trinity College, in his native city, in 1798, and the following year moved to London and began the study of law. From 1800 until his death in 1852, he published works in prose and poetry including Sacred Songs, 1816.

Key Verse: The young women will dance for joy, and the men–old and young–will join in the celebration. I will turn their mourning into joy. I will comfort them and exchange their sorrow for rejoicing. –Jeremiah 31:13