Jesus 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!