Come ye hither all, whose taste

Is your waste;

Save your cost, and mend your fare.

God is here prepar'd and drest,

And the feast,

God, in whom all dainties are.

Come ye hither all, whom wine

Doth define,

Naming you not to your good:

Weep what ye have drunk amisse,

And drink this,

Which before ye drink is bloud.

Come ye hither all, whom pain

Doth arraigne,

Bringing all your sinnes to sight:

Taste and fear not: God is here

In this cheer,

And on sinne doth cast the fright.

Come ye hither all, whom joy

Doth destroy,

While ye graze without your bounds:

Here is joy that drowneth quite

Your delight,

As a floud the lower grounds.

Come ye hither all, whose love

Is your dove,

And exalts you to the skie:

Here is love, which having breath

Ev'n in death,

After death can never die.

Lord I have invited all,

And I shall

Still invite, still call to thee:

For it seems but just and right

In my sight,

Where is all, there all should be.