Savior, I come to thee A wear child, with pain and care oppressed, O let me lean this aching burdened heart Upon thy loving breast! The way is very dark I cannot see it, Lord, through these my tears! Take thou my hand and draw me up to thee Through all the lonely years. I have no strength, dear Lord, O let me like where I can kiss thy feet. And look up from the dust into thine eyes They are so true and sweet. Speak to me soft and low My spirit yearneth for one little word, To cheer the still sad silence of my life One word from thee, O Lord. O Savior speak to me And as the river falls into the sea And sinks to sleep, so this my wearied heart Shall find its rest in thee.