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 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;
Yes, and when that world's glory Is dawning on my soul,
Tell me the old, old story: "Christ Jesus makes thee whole."