The lit­tle birds now seek their nest;
The ba­by sleeps on mo­ther’s breast;
Thou giv­est all Thy child­ren rest,
God of the wea­ry.

The sail­or pray­eth on the sea:
The lit­tle ones at mo­ther’s knee;
Now comes the pe­ni­tent to Thee,
God of the wea­ry.

The orp­han puts away his fears;
The trou­bled hopes for hap­pi­er years;
Thou dri­est all the mourn­er’s tears,
God of the wea­ry.

Thou send­est rest to tired feet,
To lit­tle toil­ers slum­ber sweet,
To ach­ing hearts re­pose com­plete,
God of the wea­ry.

In grief, per­plex­ity, or pain,
None ev­er come to Thee in vain;
Thou mak­est life a joy again,
God of the wea­ry.

We sleep that we may wake re­newed,
To serve Thee as Thy child­ren should,
With love, and zeal, and gra­ti­tude,
God of the wea­ry.