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.