O soul, aweary of life's loss and pain,
By feverish aims and aching griefs possessed,
The voice of Jesus pleads yet once again—
“Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.”
Are sins like midnight heavy on your thought?
The future dark, by judgment fears oppressed?
His invitation comfort brings unsought—
“Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.”
When inward conflicts rend the soul apart,
And peace forsakes the spirit, storm-possessed,
No words like these can soothe the fainting heart—
“Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.”
What tho' with toil the weary hands hang down,
And growing years have lost their strength and zest?
Still for the heavy-laden light is sown—
“Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.”
—Mary Rowles Farvis.