Jesus, I rest in Thee,
In Thee myself I hide;
Laden with guilt and misery.
Where can I rest beside,
‘Tis on Thy meek and lowly breast
My weary soul alone can rest.
Thou Holy one of God!
The Father rests in Thee,
And in the savor of that blood
Which speaks to Him for me;
The curse is gone—in Thee I’m blest;
God rests in Thee—in Thee I rest.
The slave of sin and fear,
Thy truth my bondage broke;
My happy spirit loves to wear
Thy light and easy yoke.
Thy love, which fills my grateful breast,
Makes, duty joy, and labor rest.
Soon the bright, glorious day,
The Rest of God shall come;
Sorrow and sin shall pass away,
And I shall reach my home:
Then, of the promised land possessed,
My soul shall know eternal rest!