"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!