Tell me the old, old story,

Of unseen things above,

Of Jesus and His glory,

Of Jesus and His love;

Tell me the story simply,

As to a little child,

For I am weak and weary,

And helpless and defiled.

Tell me the story slowly,

That I may take it in —

That wonderful redemption,

God's remedy for sin;

Tell me the story often,

For I forget so soon,

The "early dew" of morning

Has passed away at noon.

Tell me the story softly,

With earnest tones and grave;

Remember I'm the sinner

Whom Jesus came to save;

Tell me the story always,

If you would really be,

In any time of trouble,

A comforter to me.

Tell me the same old story,

When you have cause to fear

That this world's empty glory

Is costing me too dear;

And when the Lord's bright glory

Is dawning on my soul,

Tell me the old, old story:

"Christ Jesus makes thee whole."