(Part of a series singing through the hymnbook I grew up with: Great Hymns of the Faith)
Art thou weary, art thou languid, Art thou sore distrest?
“Come to Me,” saith One, “and, coming, Be at rest.”
Hath He marks to lad me to Him, If He be my Guide?
“In His feet and hands are wound-prints, And His side.”
Is there diadem, as Monarch, That His brow adorns?
“Yea, a crown, in very surety, But of thorns.”
If I still hold closely to Him, What hath He at last?
“Sorrow vanquished, labor ended, Jordan passed.”
If I ask Him to receive me, Will He say me nay?
“Not till earth and not till heaven Pass away.”
Finding, foll’wing keeping, struggling, Is He sure to bless?
Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs Answer, “Yes.”