I COME TO
THEE FOR REST.
BY REV. ANSON C. CHESTER.
From grievous trouble, and from sore
distress,
From long temptation in the wilderness,
I hasten to the shelter of Thy
breast-
I come to Thee, my pitying Lord, for
rest.
It is not that I fear the world or
man,
Or shrink from any toil, or any ban;
For Thy dear sake I strive to do my
best,
My very striving is my plea for
rest.
I have Thy promise, and I hold it
fast,
That Thou wilt hide me till the
storm is past,
How sweet such a host to be the
guest!
O Saviour mine, I come to Thee for
rest.
Fold me a little while in Tin
embrace,
That I may gaze unhindered in Thy
face,
And like beloved John, Thy sweetness
see,
And in my exile, dream of Heaven and
Thee.
And when at last my pilgrim feet
shall stand
Amid the blossoms of the Promised
Land,
Breathe on me, Lord, Thy benediction
blest,
And crown my conflicts with eternal rest.
