For the last weariness, the mortal strife.
We would see Jesus—for life's hand hath rested
With its dark touch on weary heart and brow;
And though our souls have many billows breasted
Others are rising in the distance now.
We would see Jesus—other lights are paling
Which for long years we have rejoiced to see;
The blessings of our pilgrimage are failing—
We would not mourn them, for we come to thee.
We would see Jesus—yet the spirit lingers