“THERE REMAINETH A REST.”
By S. B. S. W.
Weary pilgrim, disheartened and faint,
Toiling up the rugged steep,
There is One who hears thy low complaint,
There is One who sees thee weep;
And he looks with a pitying eye,
He feels with a heart of love,
And he hears ev’n thy faintest sigh,
From his glorious throne above. And he says, “There remaineth a rest”
For all the weary above,
Where they shall be forever blest
In the fullness of his love;
A rest that remaineth forever—
No more toiling, no more pain,
And the tear of sorrow never
Shall bedew thy cheek again. No more weariness, no more sighing,
No more temptation and sin;
No more suffering, no more dying,
And no more conflicts within.
Then cheer up, fainting one, and depressed,
And “fight the good fight of faith;”
“Labor to enter into that rest.”
For the faithful after death. Rest eternal—oh, joyful thought!
When our labors here are done;
When the last battle with sin is fought,
And the crown of victory won;
Then we’ll cast our crowns before the Lamb,
Who prepared for us this rest;
Ascribing glory and praise to Him,
Who is worthy to be blest.
—S. B. S. W. in Christian Press.