When our minds are in a tu­mult,
And the world seems go­ing wrong,
When our nerves are chafed and fret­ted,
And the day is far too long,
When each mo­ment seems a bur­den,
And this life too hard to bear,
We can tell it all to Je­sus,
He will ev­ery bur­den share.

When the tired lit­tle child­ren
Seek their mo­ther’s close em­brace,
And with fret­ful cries and mur­murs
Look into her lov­ing face,
They are soothed with fond ca­ress­es,
Comforted in shel­ter­ing arms;
Soon are fled their child­ish tri­als,
Soon for­got the day’s al­arms.

Can we not, like lit­tle child­ren,
Tell our doubts and fears to Him?
He will lead us thro’ life’s maz­es
With sight clear, where ours is dim.
Oh! the bless­èd peace of know­ing
We are safe in His dear hands!
All our poor mis­takes and fail­ures
We are sure He un­der­stands.