The King of heaven his table spreads,

And dainties crown the board;

Not paradise, with all its joys,

Could such delights afford.

2 Pardon and peace to dying men,

And endless life are given,

Through the rich blood that Jesus shed,

To raise our souls to heaven.

3 You hungry poor, that long have strayed

In sin’s dark mazes, come;

Come from your most obscure retreat,

And grace shall find you room.

4 Millions of souls in glory now

Were fed and feasted here;

And millions more still on the way

Around the board appear.

5 Yet are his heart and house so large

That millions more may come:

Nor could the whole assembled world

O’erfill the spacious room.

6 All things are ready: come away,

Nor weak excuses frame;

Crowd to your places at the feast,

And bless the Founder’s name.