1 Art thou weary, art thou languid,
Art thou sore distressed?
'Come to Me,' saith One, 'and, coming,
Be at rest.'
2 Hath He marks to lead me to Him,
If he be my Guide?
In His feet and hands are wound-prints,
And His side.
3 Is there diadem, as Monarch,
That His brow adorns?
Yea, a crown in very surety,
But of thorns!
4 If I find Him, if I follow,
What his guerdon here?
Many a sorrow, many a labour,
Many a tear!
5 If I still hold closely to Him,
What hath He at last?
Sorrow vanquished, labour ended,
6 If I ask Him to receive me,
Will He say me nay?
Not till earth and not till heaven
7 Finding, following, keeping, struggling,
Is He sure to bless?
Angels, martyrs, saints, and prophets