Jesus, I rest on 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;

The voice of Thy atoning blood

Pleads evermore for me:

The curse is gone; through Thee I’m blest:

God rests in Thee; in Thee I rest.

The slave of sin and fear

Thy truth my bondage broken

And now my spirit loves to wear

Thy light and easy yoke:

The love which fills my grateful breast,

Makes duty joy and labour 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 possess’d

My soul shall know eternal rest.