I Am Resting; Let Me Be
By Mrs. May Hicklin
I first met her in the gloaming,
As the old year slowly dies,
In the past her memory roaming
As she sat with saddened eyes.
Kind hands sought oft to arouse her,
Strove in vain that soul to free;
This, alas, her only answer:
“I am resting; let me be.” Tho affliction sought her portal,
To obtain sore needed aid,
Sickness, death, to that poor mortal,
Seemed a debt that must be paid.
Tho her heart was slowly breaking,
No avail our prayers to free.
This her answer, echoes waking:
“I am resting; let me be.” Till at last a godly neighbor
Told of Jesus' love divine,
How in all His earthly labor
Justice, truth, and love combine.
He'll not ay restrain His anger,
If we slight His love so free;
Then, too late, we'll hear this answer:
“I am resting; let me be.”