“Come unto Me and rest,”
Jesus, the Saviour, cried;
Come, all by sin and guilt opprest,
He has for sinners died.
“Come unto me and rest,
All ye that labor come;”
Come to His gentle, loving breast,
The contrite sinner’s home.
Come, with your heavy load
Of unforgiven sin;
Come, trust His rich, atoning blood,
Which makes the guilty clean.
His yoke is easy—come,
His burden light to bear;
Come, and from Him no longer roam,
Rest, for the soul is there.