Lucius

—?+

Words and Music by
F. R. Havergal. Y
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III I J J I I.

CHORUS.

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Refrain,

or’eac’T [
verse. )

Will ye not come to Him for life?

Why will ye die, oh why?
He gave His life for you, for you
The gift is free, the word is true
Will ye not come? Oh, why will ye die?
Will ye not come? Will ye not come,
Will ye not come to Him, to Him?
Oh, come, come, come to Him
Come unto Jesus, oh, come for life.

Will ye not come to Him for peace,

Peace through His cross alone?
He shed His precious blood for you;
The gift is free, the word is true!
He is our Peace — Oh, is He your own?

Will yet not come, etc... for peace?

Will ye not come to Him for rest1?

All that are weary, come:
The rest He gives is deep and true,
‘Tis offered now, ’tis offered you:
Rest in His love, and rest in His home.

Will ye not come, etc. ... for rest?

Will ye not come to Him for joy?

Will ye not come for this?
He laid His joys aside for you,
To give you joy, so sweet, so true:
Sorrowing heart, oh, drink of the bliss!

Will ye not come, etc..., for joy f

Will ye not come to Him for love,

Love that can fill the heart?
Exceeding great, exceeding free 1
He loveth you, He loveth me!
Will ye not come? Why stand ye apart?

Will ye not come, etc. ... for love?

Will ye not come to Him for ALL?

Will ye not ’ taste and see? ’
He waits to give it all to you,
The gifts are free, the words are true:
Jesus hath said it, ‘Come unto Me! ’

Will ye not come, etc.... to HIM?

In compliance with a request from Sankey for a Gospel Musical Call, my dear sister F. R. H. wrote these lines at Winterdyne, December 21, 1873. The same morning, I met her with the MS. in her hand, toiling up to the Wyre Hill schoolroom. She said, * Maria, will the children be out of school?” Yes.’ * Then I shall lock

myself in and fancy the room full for a mission service! I have been praying that the music may be sent me, to fit His message, * Will ye not come? ’

Soon I heard these chords on the harmonium and her ringing voice. She called the tune ‘Lucius,’ and often sang it with pleading tenderness at mission and other meetings.

Thus in poetry, in prose, in music, in life, and in death, her silver refrain was, ‘Will ye not comeV

‘Still shall the key-word, ringing, echo the same sweet “Cornel” Come with the blessed myriads safe in the Father’s home; Come — for the work is over; Come — for the feast is spread; Come — for the crown of glory waits for the weary head.’

MARIA V. G. HAVERGAL.