1 Jesu, the weary wanderer's rest,
Give me thy easy yoke to bear;
With stedfast patience arm my breast,
With spotless love, and lowly fear.
2 Thankful I take the cup from thee,
Prepar'd and mingled by thy skill,
Though bitter to the taste it be,
Powerful the wounded soul to heal.
3 Be thou, O Rock of Ages, nigh!
So shall each murmuring thought be gone;
And grief, and fear, and care shall fly
As clouds before the mid-day sun.
4 Speak to my warring passions, "Peace;"
Say to my trembling heart, "Be still:"
Thy power my strength and fortress is,
For all things serve thy sov'reign will.
5 O death! where is thy sting? where now
Thy boasted victory, O grave?
Who shall contend with God? Or who
Can hurt whom God delights to save?
Source: A Pocket hymn-book, designed as a constant companion for the pious: collected from various authors (11th ed.) #CCLII