Rest

Made for Thyself, O God !
Made for Thy love, Thy service, Thy delight ;
Made to show forth Thy wisdom, grace, and might ;
Made for Thy praise, whom veiled archangels laud ;
Oh strange and glorious thought, that we may be
A joy to Thee!

Yet the heart turns away
From this grand destiny of bliss, and deems
Twas made for its poor self, for passing dreams,
Chasing illusions melting day by day ;
Till for ourselves we read on this world's best,
'This is not rest !'

Nor can the vain toil cease,
Till in the shadowy maze of life we meet
One who can guide our aching, wayward feet
To find Himself, our Way, our Life, our Peace.
In Him the long unrest is soothed and stilled ;
Our hearts are filled.

O rest, so true, so sweet !
(Would it were shared by all the weary world !)
'Neath shadowing banner of His love unfurled,
We bend to kiss the Master's pierced feet ;
Then lean our love upon His loving breast,
And know God's rest.