Child of My love, “Lean Hard,”
And let Me feel the pressure of thy care,
I know thy burden, child—I shaped it,
Poised it in My own hand, made no proportion
In its weight to thine unaided strength.
Before I ever laid it on, I said,
“I shall be ever near, and while she leans on Me
This burden shall be Mine, not hers:”
So shall I keep My child within the circling arms
Of Mine own love. Here lay it down, nor fear
To impose it on a shoulder which upholds
The government of worlds—yet closer come,
Thou are not near enough; I would embrace
thy care,
So I might feel My child reposing on My heart:
Thou lovest Me? I doubt it not,
Then, loving Me, “Lean Hard.”