O JESUS LORD, Thy voice is calling, calling,
From heart to heart, and to my soul — how blest!
“Come unto Me, ye that are heavy laden:
“Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.”
‘Tis rest, ‘tis rest, dear Lord, that I am needing,
For I have roamed the mountains wild and bare:
Tired are my feet, and bruised I am and bleeding,
Far from the shelter of Thy loving care.
And so, my Lord, I come, I come for refuge,
Come when my heart is hushed and wrung with pain.
‘Tis Thee I long for as for dawn of morning:
The world may leave me, if but Thou remain.
Oh! for the touch of Thy divinest healing!
Oh! for the balm that soothes a troubled breast!
Out of my darkness, weariness, and sorrow,
I come to Thee: Oh, wilt Thou give me rest?