1 Art thou weary, heavy laden,
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 Is there diadem, as Monarch,
That His brow adorns?
“Yea, a crown, in very surety,
But of thorns.”
4 If I still hold closely to Him,
What hath He at last?
“Sorrow vanquished, labor ended,
5 If I ask Him to receive me,
Will He say me nay?
“Not till earth and not till heaven
6 Finding, following, keeping, struggling,
Is He sure to bless?
“Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs,
Author: St. Stephen of Mar Sabas
Translator: J. M. Neale (1862)