Where else is rest—the soul's supremest need?
Grandly he offers; meanly we receive.
Yet love that gives us rest is love indeed.
The love that rests—say, shall it not do more?
Make haste, sad soul, thy heritage to claim.
It calms; it heals; it bears what erst ye bore,
And marks thy burdens with his own dear name.
Carried in him and for him, can they harm
Or press thee sore, or prove a weary weight?
Nay, nay; into thy life his blessed calm