Day after day my weary task I ply,

And half the night to ceaseless toil is given;

When weary is my heart and dim mine eye,

I seem to hear the Saviour’s voice from Heaven:

“Come unto Me, all ye by toil opprest,

Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.”

When all my labour scarce can bread procure,

And weak with want my feeble fingers move;

When dear ones round me hunger’s pangs endure,

My drooping spirit hears that voice of love:

“Come unto Me, all ye by grief opprest,

Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.”

O Lord, how shall I come? my sinful heart

Is prone to murmur, and Thy truth forget;

Dare I approach Thee, holy as Thou art?

Methinks I hear that gentle whisper yet:

Oh, let me patiently await the day

When Christ my Lord in glory shall appear,

When tears shall be for ever wiped away,

And those who trust Him now His voice shall hear:

“Come, faithful servants, of My Father blessed,

And I will give you everlasting rest.”