John Samuel Bewley Monsell (1811–1875)

BIRDS have their quiet nest,

Foxes their holes, and man his peaceful bed;

All creatures have their rest,

But Jesus had not where to lay His head.

And yet He came to give

The weary and the heavy-laden rest;

To bid the sinner live,

And soothe our griefs to slumber on His breast.

I who once made Him grieve,

I who once bid His gentle spirit mourn;

Whose hand essay’d to weave

For His meek brow the cruel crown of thorn:—

O why should I have peace?

Why—but for that unchanged, undying love,

Which would not, could not cease,

Until it made me heir of joys above?

Yes, but for pardoning grace,

I feel I never should in glory see

The brightness of that face,

Which once was pale and agonized for me!

Let the birds seek their nest,

Foxes their holes, and man his peaceful bed;

Come, Saviour, in my breast

Deign to repose Thine oft-rejected head!

Come! give me rest, and take

The only rest on earth Thou lov’st,—within

A heart, that for Thy sake

Lies bleeding, broken, penitent for sin.