Katharine Lee Bates - "Come unto Me" lyrics

We labor, and are heavy-laden. Where Shall we find rest unto our souls? We bleed On thorn and flint, and rove in pilgrim weed From shrine to shrine, but comfort is not there. What went we out into thy desert bare, O Human Life, to see? Thy greenest reed Is Love, unmighty for our utmost need, And shaken with the wind of our despair. A voice from heaven like dew on Hermon falleth, That voice whose pa**ion paled the olive leaf In thy dusk aisles, Gethsemane, thou blest Of gardens. 'Tis the Man of Sorrows calleth, The Man of Sorrows and acquaint with grief: "Come unto Me, and I will give you rest."