Father, a Weary Heart

1 Father a weary heart,
Hath come to thee for peace;
The world hath not the healing art
To bid its troubles cease;
It brings before thy throne
Its weight of woe and care;
Do thou accept its pleading tone--
The contrite sinner's prayer.

2 Father--it hath rebelled,
Hath wandered from thy path,
Nor heeded when the thunder swelled
The tempest of thy wrath;
But now, a bruised thing,
Neglected, pale, and bare,
Lo, at thy footstool it doth bring
The contrite sinner's prayer.

3 Father, it bends before
Thy throne among the blest;
Peace to the wretched heart restore,
Give it the weary rest:
Through Christ's atonement given,
It trusteth yet to share
The glorious heritage of heaven,
By lowly, contrite prayer.


Source: Living Hymns: for use in the Sabbath School, Christian Endeavor Meetings, the church & home #421