Thou Knowest, Lord, the Weariness and Sorrow
11.10.11.10.10.10

[1539]Edinburgh:

Joseph Barnby, 1872

Jane Borthwick, 1859

Thou knowest, Lord, the weariness and sorrow

Of the sad heart that comes to thee for rest;

Cares of today, and burdens of tomorrow,

Blessings implored, and sins to be confessed;

We come before thee at thy gracious word,

And lay them at thy feet: thou knowest, Lord.

Thou knowest all the past; how long and blindly

On the dark mountains the lost wanderer strayed;

How the Good Shepherd followed, and how kindly

He bore it home, upon his shoulders laid;

And healed the bleeding wounds, and soothed the pain,

And brought back life, and hope, and strength again.

Thou knowest all the present; each temptation,

Each toilsome duty, each foreboding fear;

All to each one assigned, of tribulation,

Or to belovèd ones, than self more dear;

All pensive memories, as we journey on,

Longings for vanished smiles and voices gone.

Thou knowest all the future; gleams of gladness

By stormy clouds too quickly overcast;

Hours of sweet fellowship and parting sadness,

And the dark river to be crossed at last.

O what could hope and confidence afford

To tread that path, but this? Thou knowest, Lord.

Thou knowest, not alone as God, all-knowing;

As Man, our mortal weakness thou hast proved;

On earth, with purest sympathies o'erflowing,

O Savior, thou hast wept, and thou hast loved;

And love and sorrow still to thee may come,

And find a hiding-place, a rest, a home.

Therefore we come, thy gentle call obeying,

And lay our sins and sorrows at thy feet;

On everlasting strength our weakness staying,

Clothed in thy robe of righteousness complete:

Then rising and refreshed we leave thy throne,

And follow on to know as we are known.

Amen.

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