The Poetry Corner

Jesus The Souls Rest.

By Pamela S. Vining, (J. C. Yule)

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." I gave myself to Jesus In my sunny childhood's years, When on my young, unsullied cheek There lay no trace of tears; I little knew what gift I gave, Nor yet what gift I took; For life without and life within Were each a sealed-up book. But soon enough unfolding years Brought sorrow, toil, and pain, - Brought disappointment's burning tears, And yearnings wild and vain; And then I learned what precious Gift In Jesus I received In that still hour of childish trust, When my young heart believed. 'Twas then I knew what arm unseen Was round me 'mid the strife, The blighted hope, the toil uncheered, The cold, rude storms of life; And when the reeds on which I leaned All failed me one by one, I clasped my pierced and bleeding hands, And wept, but not alone. For He was near me midst the strife, And, leaning on His arm, I trod the thorny paths of life, Safe sheltered from all harm; The while He whispered to my heart, "I gave my life for thee! Then, heavy laden as thou art, Cast all thy care on me!" "On me! ON ME!" - oh, gentle word! - O Sympathy divine! - O Fount of joy, how deeply stirred, Within this heart of mine! - O cool, sweet Waters, how ye stilled The fever of my brain, - And soothed the heart-strings that had thrilled With agonizing pain! My own, - My Rock! - the heavy tide May beat in uproar dread, Calmly 'gainst its unmoving side I rest my weary head; - For well I know how deep it strikes Beneath the raging flood - My Soul's firm Anchor 'mid the strife, My Refuge and my God!