Father, I'm Tired

Father, I'm tired,
The way is rough and thorny and my
Feet are torn,
Are torn and bleeding and I'm,
Weary sad and worn;
I thirst for the still waters of the
Promised land.
And seem to hear them rippling on the
Golden sand.
Yet through this arid waste I journey
On and on,
And the long journey seems for me but
Just begun,
Yet I am tired.

Father, I'm tired!
I don not want to go to heaven on
Beds of ease;
Nor always would I ask clear
Sky and balmy breeze.
I would not shrink from clouds and threat'ning
Sky and storm.
I know the after sunlight seems more
Sweet and warm.
But, oh, to strive and struggle thus from
Day to day,
And know that such must be my lot,
I can but say,
Father, I'm tired.

Father, I'm tired!
Must my life-burden ever thus so
Heavy be?
Shall only crosses bring me
Nearer heaven and thee?
O, my meek Savior, shall my proud heart
Always feel
Towatrd this world as a weak worm
Beneath the heel?
Help me, O help me to
Remember thee,
Jesus, and all the scorn that thou hast
Borne for me,
When I am tired.

Father, I'm tired!
Yet, O I would not murmur when my
Lot seems hard.
I know the servant cannot
Be above his Lord;
I know that every cross I bear for
Thee below
Shall make my crown in heaven more
Brightly glow.
I would do any thing, be
Anything for thee,
O Father grant thy grace to
Strengthen me
When I am tired.

Father, I'm tired!
Yet this I know, that sometime I shall
Fold my hands
From their life-work; my soul shall
Burst its prison bands;
My feet shall stand by Jordan; I shall
Catch a gleam
Of the pure, sinless clime that lies
Beyond the stream.
I shall go hand in hand with Jesus
Through the tide,
And in the home prepared upon
The other side,
Never grow tired.