Rest

EDITH L. PERKINS

No sweeter words than these were e'er addressed
To thee and all by mortal sense oppressed,—
"Come unto me, and I will give thee rest."

'Tis Christ that calls,—nor knows the ages' flight,—
In tones of tenderness and lowly might:
"My yoke is easy, and my burden light.

"My yoke upon you take, and learn of me.
Then, struggling heart, wherever thou mayst be,
The peace that passeth knowledge is for thee."

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