Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
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 and sleepless eyes
Watch to see the morning rise;
Ye, by fiercer anguish torn,
In strong remorse for guilt who mourn,
Here repose your heavy carte,
A wounded spirit who can bear!
Sinner, come! for here is found
Balm that flows from every wound;
Peace, that ever shall endure,
Rest eternal, sacred, sure.
Text: Poems by Anna Laetitia Barbauld. New Ed. (London: Printed for Joseph Johnson, St. Paul’s Church-Yard, 1792), pp. 126-27.