ART thou weary, art thou languid,
Art thou sore distressed?
“Come to me,” saith One, “and coming,
Be at rest.”
Hath He diadem as a monarch,
That His brow adorns?
Yes, a crown of very surety,
But of thorns.
If I ask Him to receive me,
Will He say me nay?
Not till earth, and not till heaven
Pass away.
Finding, following, keeping, struggling,
Is He sure to bless?
Angels, martyrs, saints, and prophets
Answer, “Yes!”