The Souls Rest


“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” 

I gave myself to Jesus 
    In my sunny childhood’s years, 
When on my young, unsullied cheek 
    There lay no trace of tears; 
I little knew what gift I gave, 
    Nor yet what gift I took; 
For life without and life within 
    Were each a sealed-up book. 

But soon enough unfolding years 
    Brought sorrow, toil, and pain,– 
Brought disappointment’s burning tears, 
    And yearnings wild and vain; 
And then I learned what precious Gift 
    In Jesus I received 
In that still hour of childish trust, 
    When my young heart believed. 

‘Twas then I knew what arm unseen 
    Was round me ‘mid the strife, 
The blighted hope, the toil uncheered, 
    The cold, rude storms of life; 
And when the reeds on which I leaned 
    All failed me one by one, 
I clasped my pierced and bleeding hands, 
    And wept, but not alone. 

For He was near me midst the strife, 
    And, leaning on His arm, 
I trod the thorny paths of life, 
    Safe sheltered from all harm; 
The while He whispered to my heart, 
    “I gave my life for thee! 
Then, heavy laden as thou art, 
    Cast all thy care on me!” 

“On me! ON ME!”–oh, gentle word!– 
    O Sympathy divine!– 
O Fount of joy, how deeply stirred, 
    Within this heart of mine!– 
O cool, sweet Waters, how ye stilled 
    The fever of my brain,– 
And soothed the heart-strings that had thrilled 
    With agonizing pain! 

My own,–My Rock!–the heavy tide 
    May beat in uproar dread, 
Calmly ‘gainst its unmoving side 
    I rest my weary head;– 
For well I know how deep it strikes 
    Beneath the raging flood– 
My Soul’s firm Anchor ‘mid the strife, 
    My Refuge and my God!

       – Mrs. J. C. Yule


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