THERE is a Voice through Earth’s wild clamor calling,
To all the heavy laden and oppressed,
Sweet as the cooling dew at even falling;
“Come unto Me and rest.”
It is the Voice of Jesus still entreating,
To all the comfortless and all the sad;
Day after day His tender call repeating,
“Come unto Me and I will make you glad.”
There is a Hand outstretched in tenderest pity,
Where all the weary and the wandering roam,
Waiting to lead them to the heavenly city,
To bring the homeless Home.
It is the Hand of Jesus, still upholding;
Strong to deliver, mighty still to keep:
And none shall pluck from out that safe enfolding,
The weakest one of all His blood=bought sheep.
There is a Form that walks life’s stormy ocean,
Bidding the noise of wind and tempest cease,
Crying aloud through all the wild commotion,
“In Me ye shall have peace.”
Oh, it is Jesus, coming o’er the waters,
As once He walked the waves of Galilee, —
Speaking to all earth’s shipwrecked sons and daughters,
“Be not afraid; have faith, have faith in Me.”
There is a Love that longs, with deep affection,
To gather all the sin sick sons of men
Beneath its wings of shelter and protection,
And give them health again.
It is the love of Jesus, sweet with longing
His full salvation to the world to give, —
Crying to all the dead, earth’s highways thronging,
“Come unto Me, come unto Me, and live.”
Annie Johnson Flint.