1 Art thou weary, art thou troubled,
Art thou sore distrest?
"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 Hath He 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 labor,
Many a tear."
5 If I still hold closely to Him,
What hath He at last?
Sorrow vanquished, labor 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?
"Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs,
|First Line:||Art thou weary, art thou troubled|
|Title:||Art Thou Weary, Art Thou Troubled|
|Author:||John M. Neale (1862, cento, alt.)|
|Topic:||Cross and Comfort|