Come unto Me, ye who are heavy laden
Come unto Me, ye who are sore oppressed,
The white haired sire, the young and tender maiden,
Come unto Me, and I will give ye rest.

Ye who have seen the clouds of tempests cover
All that the earth had promised fair and bright,
Ye who have seen death’s pinions darkly hover,
Quenching the life that was a joy and light.

Come unto Me, though shadows round ye gather,
Though the sad heart is weary and distressed,
Then ask for comfort from a hea­ven­ly Fa­ther,
Come unto Me, and I will give ye rest.

Ye who are mourning o’er the young and cherished,
Ye who have laid the lovely in the earth,
Ye who have wept when the young infant perished,
Ere it had lisped its little words of mirth,

Come unto Me, and see its wings of brightness,
The fading flower that withered on thy breast;
Thou shalt receive it in its robe of whiteness—
Come unto Me, and I will give ye rest.

Ye who have mourned when autumn leaves were taken,
When the ripe fruit fell richly to the ground,
When the old slept in brighter homes to waken,
Where their pale brows with glory wreaths were bound;

Ye who have sighed for kindred voice to bless ye,
Ye who so oft its gentle tones have blest,
Come where in peace they shall again caress ye,
Come unto Me, and I will give ye rest.

Many are the mansions in yon bright dwelling,
Glad are the homes no sorrows ever dim,
Sweet are the harps in holy music swelling,
Soft are the tones that raise the hea­ven­ly hymn.

There, like an Eden, blossoming in glad­ness,
Bloom the fair flowers the earth too rudely pressed,
Then hither haste, all ye who mourn in sadness,
Come unto Me, and I will give ye rest.

Catherine Esling,
The Broken Bracelet, 1850