O weary heart, there is a Home

O weary heart, there is a Home,
Beyond the reach of toil and care;
A Home where changes never come:
Who would not fain be resting there?

Yet when bowed down beneath the load
By heaven allowed, thine earthly lot;
Look up! thou'lt reach that blest abode:
Wait, meekly wait, and murmur not!

If in thy path some thorns are found,
Oh, think who bore them on His brow;
If grief thy sorrowing heart has found,
It reached a holier than thou.

Toil on! nor deem, though sore it be,
One sigh unheard, one prayer forgot;
The day of rest will dawn for thee:
Wait, meekly wait, and murmur not!