1 Art thou weary, art thou languid,
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 labour,
many a tear.
5 If I still hold closely to him,
what has he at last?
Sorrow vanquished, labour ended,
Jordan past.
6 If I ask him to receive me,
will he say me nay?
Not till earth, and not till heaven
pass away.
7 Finding, following, keeping, struggling,
is he sure to bless?
Angels, martyrs, prophets, virgins,
answer, yes!
Source: CPWI Hymnal #510
John M. Neale's life is a study in contrasts: born into an evangelical home, he had sympathies toward Rome; in perpetual ill health, he was incredibly productive; of scholarly temperament, he devoted much time to improving social conditions in his area; often ignored or despised by his contemporaries, he is lauded today for his contributions to the church and hymnody. Neale's gifts came to expression early–he won the Seatonian prize for religious poetry eleven times while a student at Trinity College, Cambridge, England. He was ordained in the Church of England in 1842, but ill health and his strong support of the Oxford Movement kept him from ordinary parish ministry. So Neale spent the years between 1846 and 1866 as a warden of Sackvi… Go to person page >
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