Poem September 19, 1903 Issue

The Rest of God

ADA BLERS FOSTER.

O'er the bright waves of distant Galilee
Soft falls the sunset light, with tender afterglow;
And o'er the sacred haunts of him
Who once oft lingered there,
A golden splendor softly falls;
And o'er this sea of gold there comes once more
The heavenly echo of that voice divine:
"Come unto me, all ye that labor
And are heavy laden,
And I will give you rest."
The rest of God! O toiling sons of men,
Know ye the height, the depth,
Of this most gracious gift,—
The rest of God?
Rest from thyself, O man, and all the darksome fears,
Which throng thy earthly path;
Rest from thy doubts, thy longings and thy tears,
Forevermore.