Tired

My heart and soul are all too tired to tell; So weary, Lord, Of this long, ceaseless work of doing well, Without reward.

Oh, I have been thy servant now for years, Nor made complaint, Though my life cup has been abrim with tears, But now I faint.

And I have worked for thee, with all my strength, In pain and woe. My Master, canst thou chide me, if at length I ask to go?

Oh, if the soul is purified by fire, Then I am blest. The laborer is worthy of his hire-- Lord, give me rest.

I know that I have sinned in many ways-- A sinner made. But I have tried to serve thee all my days-- I'm not afraid.

I know full well my record is not clear, Nor white as snow; But better meet it than to linger here. Lord, let me go.