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The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Third-day, August 6, 1867

FromReview and Herald, Vol. XXX, No. 8

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I AM WEARY.

My feet are worn and weary with the march, Over rough roads and up the steep hillside; Oh, City of our God! I fain would see Thy pastures green, where peaceful waters glide.
My hands are weary, laboring, toiling on, Day after day, for perishable meat; Oh, City of our God! I fain would rest— I sigh to gain thy glorious mercy-seat.
My garments, travel-worn and stained with dust, Oft rent by briars and thorns that crowd my way, Would fain be made, O Lord my righteousness, Spotless and pure in heaven’s unclouded ray.
My eyes are weary looking at the sin, Impiety and scorn upon the earth! Oh, City of our God! within thy walls All, all are clothed upon with the new birth.
My heart is weary of its own deep sin— Sinning, repenting, sinning still alway; When shall my soul thy glorious presence feel, And find its guilt, dear Saviour, washed away?
Patience, poor soul, the Saviour’s feet were worn, The Saviour’s heart and hands were weary, too, His garments stained and travel-worn, and old, His sacred eyes blinded with tears for you.
Love thou the path of sorrow that he trod; Toil on, and wait in patience for thy rest; Oh, City of our God! we soon shall see Thy glorious walls, home of the loved and blest.