IF WE BELIEVED
If we believed we should arise and sing,
Dropping our burdens at his piercèd feet.
Sorrow would flee and weariness take wing,
Hard things grow fair, and bitter waters sweet.
If we believed, what room for fear or care
Within his arms, safe sheltered on his breast?
Peace for our pain, and hope for our despair,
Is what he meant who said, "I give thee rest."
Why linger, turn away, or idly grieve?