Mrs. Elizabeth Fries Ellet (1818–1877)

O WEARY heart, there is a rest for thee!

O truant heart, there is a blessed home,

An isle of gladness on life’s wayward sea,

Where storms that vex the waters never come.

There trees perennial yield their balmy shade;

There flower-wreathed hills in sunlit beauty sleep;

There meek streams murmur through the verdant glade;

There heaven bends smiling o’er the placid deep.

Winnowed by wings immortal that fair isle;

Vocal its air with music from above;

There meets the exile eye a welcoming smile;

There ever speaks a summoning voice of love

Unto the heavy-laden and distressed,—

“Come unto me, and I will give you rest.”