WE are so weary, Lord, of all the strife,
The toil, and bustle of our daily life;
With weakness and with sin we are oppressed;
Both head and heart are longing for Thy rest.
Our feet are weary; they are often torn,
And sorely wounded by the pricking thorn;
While trifles quickly vex, and cause a sigh,
Which others smile at, or would pass them by.
We are so weary, Lord, we stumble so;
We cannot walk so well as others go;
The smallest stone will trip our trembling feet,
For they are aching with the dust and heat.
Yet we have heard those gracious welcome words,
“Come unto me, and rest”: Thou knowest, Lord,
This is the rest we crave ; but can it be
We are too weary even to come to Thee?
O touch our hearts again, then we shall spring
Upwards towards Thee, as on an eagle’s wing;
Weariness, weakness, all will pass away,
As darkness flees before returning day.
Take us, dear Lord, into thy loving arms,
That blessed hiding-place from all alarms;
Give us a sweet foretaste of future rest,
Then we can wait, and feel thy time is best.
That time will quickly come; a few short years
Shall end our sojourn in this vale of tears:
Guide our weak footsteps, till upon Thy breast
We find our long desired, our endless rest.
L. D.