Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.@Matthew 11:28
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John M. Neale (1818–1866)

Stephen of Mar Sa­ba (Ju­dea), 8th Cen­tu­ry (Κό­πον τε καὶ κάμ­α­τον). Trans­lated from Greek to Eng­lish by John M. Neale in Hymns for the East­ern Church, 1862. Neale gave it the un­u­su­al ti­tle Id­i­o­me­la, in the Week of the First Oblique Tone. How­ev­er, Neale lat­er said these lyr­ics con­tained lit­tle of the orig­in­al Greek ver­sion. This hymn was sung in the 1940 mo­vie Our Town, which was nom­in­at­ed for sev­er­al Acad­e­my Awards.

Ste­pha­nos Hen­ry W. Baker, 1868 (🔊 pdf nwc). The tune is named af­ter the hymn’s orig­in­al aut­hor, a ne­phew of John of Da­mas­cus.

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Henry W. Baker (1821–1877)

Some years ago, writes Mr. James A. Wat­son, of Black­burn, Eng­land, I oft­en vis­it­ed one of our adult Sun­day-school schol­ars who had just been brought to the know­ledge of the Sav­iour…She heard a gos­pel of full and free sal­va­tion, em­braced it, and grad­u­al­ly be­came a faith-filled, con­sis­tent Chris­tian. She was laid low with a ser­i­ous ill­ness, but it was al­ways a plea­sure to vis­it her.

On one oc­ca­sion she told me that the ev­en­ing be­fore, when she had been left alone for the night, a cloud came ov­er her spir­it, the sense of lone­li­ness grew up­on her, and she seemed for­sak­en of God. All looked black, and she dread­ed the long, lone night. This was a most un­u­su­al thing and she won­dered why it should be so.

Just then, in the qui­et night, she heard steps on the flags of the foot-way. A man wear­ing the clogs of the fac­to­ry op­er­at­or was com­ing along, ev­i­dent­ly re­turn­ing late from some re­li­gious meet­ing. He was full of joy, for be­fore he reached the house where my schol­ar was lay­ing awake, he struck up in a joy­ful and loud song, Art thou wea­ry, art thou lang­uid?…The sing­er, an an­gel in clogs, went on his way, sing­ing aloud out of a full heart; but deep down into the heart of the lone­ly wo­man went the words, Be at rest! Again she cast her­self up­on the Lord; the cloud part­ed, peace and rest filled her heart, and she doubt­ed no more.

Sankey, pp. 115–16

Art thou weary, art thou languid,
Art thou sore distressed?
Come to Me, saith One, and coming,
Be at rest.

Hath He marks to lead me to Him,
If He be my Guide?
In His feet and hands are wound prints
And His side.

Hath He diadem, as monarch,
That His brow adorns?
Yes, a crown in very surety,
But of thorns.

If I find Him, if I follow,
What His guerdon here?
Many a sorrow, many a labor,
Many a tear.

If I still hold closely to Him,
What hath He at last?
Sorrow vanquished, labor ended,
Jordan passed.

If I ask Him to receive me,
Will He say me nay?
Not till earth and not till Heaven
Pass away.

Finding, following, keeping, struggling,
Is He sure to bless?
Saints, apostles, prophets, martyrs,
Answer, Yes!