What tender words the gentle Master spoke
To draw the weary ones, that they might hear
The healing message that he came to bring.
All down the centuries those sweet words ring,
"Come unto me and I will give you rest."
O weary and distressed and sore of heart,
The blind and dumb and sad, he bids you come.
Those blessed healing words are for today.
Did not the Master point the certain way
To health and joy and all-abiding peace?
How saddened hearts, burdened with grief and sin,
Beset with care and heavy with sick fear,
Must have been quickened with exultant joy!
Here was a prophet who could understand,
One of themselves, a man of simple ways
Yet learned in the doctrine of their faith—
A man of such sublime humility
That he could know himself
As God's dear Son.
The Christ is here to comfort and to bless;
To lift each heart above the wretchedness
Of pain and fear and sin;
To bring the certain consciousness of health:
To pour the boundless wealth,
The wealth of God's dear love,
Upon each suffering one.
Insistently, the message echoes—"Come!"
