Art Thou Weary ? Art Thou Languid ?
Art Thou Sore Distrest ?
Come To Me, Saith One; And Coming,
Be At Rest !

Hath He Marks To Lead Me To Him,
If He Be My Guide ?
In His Feet And Hands Are Wound-Prints,
And His Side.

Is There Diadem As Monarch
That His Brow Adorns ?
Yea, A Crown, In Very Surety,
But Of Thorns.

If I Find Him, If I Follow,
What His Guerdon Here ?
“Many A Sorrow, Many A Labour,
Many A Tear.

If I Still Hold Closely To Him,
What Hath He At Last ?
Sorrow Vanquished, Labour Ended,
Jordan Passed.

If I Ask Him To Receive Me,
Will He Say Me Nay ?
Not Till Earth, And Not Till Heaven,
Pass Away.

Finding, Following, Keeping, Struggling
Is He Sure To Bless ?
“Saints, Apostles, Prophets, Martyrs,
Answer Yes !