Day after day my weary task I ply,
And half the night to ceaseless toil is given;
When weary is my heart and dim mine eye,
I seem to hear the Saviour’s voice from Heaven:
“Come unto Me, all ye by toil opprest,
Come unto Me, and I will give you rest.”
When all my labour scarce can bread procure,
And weak with want my feeble fingers move;
When dear ones round me hunger’s pangs endure,