My only Saviour! when I feel

O’erwhelmed in spirit, faint, oppressed,

’Tis sweet to tell thee, while I kneel

Low at thy feet, thou art my rest.

2 I’m weary of the strife within;

Strong powers against my soul contest;

O, let me turn from self and sin,

To thy dear cross, for there is rest!

3 O! sweet will be the welcome day,

When from her toils and woes released,

My parting soul in death shall say,

“Now, Lord! I come to thee for rest.”