Art Thou Weary, Art Thou Languid

Verse 1

Art thou weary, art thou languid, art thou sore distrest? 'Come to me,' saith One, 'and coming, be at rest!

Verse 2

Hath he marks to lead me to him, if he be my guide? In his feet and hands are wound-prints, and his side.

Verse 3

Hath he diadem as monarch that his brow adorns? Yea, a crown, in very surety, but of thorns.

Verse 4

If I find him, if I follow, what his guerdon here? Many a sorrow, many a labour, many a tear.

Verse 5

If I still hold closely to him, what has he at last? Sorrow vanquished, labour ended, Jordan past.

Verse 6

If I ask him to receive me, will he say me nay? Not till earth, and not till heaven pass away.

Verse 7

Finding, following, keeping, struggling, is he sure to bless? Angels, martyrs, prophets, virgins, answer, yes!