Come, with the load of sorrow thou art bearing

Come, with the load of sorrow thou art bearing,
Lay it on Him who every burden bears;
Let not thy soul in trouble sink despairing,
He who hath sorrowed, every sorrow shares.

Look for the morn when night is dark and weary,
Morning shall come when hours of night are spent;
Clouds hide the sun, and make the noontide dreary,
Gladness shall cheer you when the clouds are rent.

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Look for His smile who gilds the hills at morning;
Surely it comes as comes the morning sun;
Beauty shall grace thy life with bright adorning,
Even as the sunlight, till thy day is done.

Then, when the morn, that makes the hilltops golden
Round the Jerusalem thy spirit gains,
Breaks on thy view, shall come the gladness olden,
Shared by the dwellers in those blest domains.