It is the smiling month of May,1
And brightly shines the sun to-day ;2
Yet would that I were far away,3
For I am weary, weary.4
Though nature gaily now renews5
Her fairest forms, her freshest dews,6
And paints her flowers in brilliant hues,7
Still am I faint and weary.8
How green the fields—how bright the sky !9
Yet all alone, with no one nigh,10
How low and bitter is my cry11
Lonely I am and weary.12
So long and strong has been the strife,13
So oft my heart with sorrow rife,14
That in the morning of my life15
Already am I weary.16
Yet bravely would I stem the tide,17
My saddest feelings seek to hide,18
To none but One above confide19
That I am weary, weary.20
For, whispers Faith, ‘ When He thinks best,21
He’ll take thee to His Father’s breast,22
Where trustingly thou aye shalt rest,23
And never more be weary.’24