‘Tis the rest of a subject heart
That beareth Christ’s burden light,
Its joy doth seek in His footsteps meek,
And walks in His own smile bright.
Yea, the rest of a broken will,
In lowly subjection now,
That hath learned at last, in days now past,
To its Father’s will to bow.
‘Tis the rest of a perfect love
In a restless heart made known;
The soul that lives in the rest He gives
Will lean on that love alone.
Such a perfect, unchanging love,
Such a peaceful, blessed rest,
Divinely led, we pillow our head
Forever on Jesus’ breast.