A SONG OF REST.
O WEARY hands ! that all the day Were set to labour hard and long, Now softly fall the shadows grey, The bells are rung for evensong. An hour ago, the golden sun Sank slowly down into the west ; Poor, weary hands, your toil is done ’Tis time for rest, ’tis time for rest
O weary feet, that many a mile Have trudged along a stony way At last ye reach the trysting stile ; No longer fear to'go astray. The gently-bending, rustling trees Kock the young birds within the nest, And softly sings the qniet breeze : •’Tis time for rest, ’tis time for rest.’
O weary eyes, from which the tears Fell many a time like thunder rain— O weary heart, that through the years Beat with such bitter, restless pain, To night forget the stormy strife. And know, what Heaven shall send is best Lay down the tangled web of life ; ‘Tis time for rest, ’tis time for rest.’
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/NZGRAP18940901.2.38
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIII, Issue IX, 1 September 1894, Page 213
Word Count
163A SONG OF REST. New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIII, Issue IX, 1 September 1894, Page 213
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Acknowledgements
This material was digitised in partnership with Auckland Libraries. You can find high resolution images on Kura Heritage Collections Online.
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