Jesus The Souls Rest.

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."


I gave myself to Jesus
    In my sunny childhood's years,
When on my young, unsullied cheek
    There lay no trace of tears;
I little knew what gift I gave,
    Nor yet what gift I took;
For life without and life within
    Were each a sealed-up book.

But soon enough unfolding years
    Brought sorrow, toil, and pain, -
Brought disappointment's burning tears,
    And yearnings wild and vain;
And then I learned what precious Gift
    In Jesus I received
In that still hour of childish trust,
    When my young heart believed.

'Twas then I knew what arm unseen
    Was round me 'mid the strife,
The blighted hope, the toil uncheered,
    The cold, rude storms of life;
And when the reeds on which I leaned
    All failed me one by one,
I clasped my pierced and bleeding hands,
    And wept, but not alone.

For He was near me midst the strife,
    And, leaning on His arm,
I trod the thorny paths of life,
    Safe sheltered from all harm;
The while He whispered to my heart,
    "I gave my life for thee!
Then, heavy laden as thou art,
    Cast all thy care on me!"

"On me! ON ME!" - oh, gentle word! -
    O Sympathy divine! -
O Fount of joy, how deeply stirred,
    Within this heart of mine! -
O cool, sweet Waters, how ye stilled
    The fever of my brain, -
And soothed the heart-strings that had thrilled
    With agonizing pain!

My own, - My Rock! - the heavy tide
    May beat in uproar dread,
Calmly 'gainst its unmoving side
    I rest my weary head; -
For well I know how deep it strikes
    Beneath the raging flood -
My Soul's firm Anchor 'mid the strife,
    My Refuge and my God!