“Come,” said Jesus’ sacred voice,
“Come, and make My paths your choice;
I will guide you to your home,
Weary pilgrim, hither come.
“Thou who, houseless, sole, forlorn,
Long hast borne the proud world’s scorn,
Long hast roamed the barren waste,
Weary pilgrim, hither haste.
“Ye who, tossed on beds of pain,
Seek for ease, but seek in vain;
Ye whose swollen, sleepless eyes
Watch to see the morning rise.
Ye, by fiercer anguish torn,
In remorse for guilt who mourn.
Here repose your heavy care:
Who the stings of guilt can bear?
“Hither come, for here is found
Balm that flows for every wound,
Peace that ever shall endure,
Rest eternal, sacred, sure.”
Anna L. Barbauld