COME HITHER UNTO ME ALL YE THAT LABOR AND ARE HEAVY
LADEN, AND I WILL GIVE YOU REST.
"Come hither!" For he supposes that they that labor and are
heavy laden feel their burden and their labor, and that they
stand there now, perplexed and sighing--one casting about with
his eyes to discover whether there is help in sight anywhere;
another with his eyes fixed on the ground, because he can see
no consolation; and a third with his eyes staring heavenward,
as though help was bound to come from heaven--but all seeking.
Therefore he sayeth: "come hither!" But he invites not him who
has ceased to seek and to sorrow.--"Come hither!" For he who
invites knows that it is a mark of true suffering, if one walks
alone and broods in silent disconsolateness, without courage to
confide in any one, and with even less self-confidence to dare
to hope for help. Alas, not only he whom we read about was possessed
of a dumb devil.[6] No suffering which does not first of all
render the sufferer dumb is of much significance, no more than
the love which does not render one silent; for those sufferers
who run on about their afflictions neither labor nor are heavy
laden. Behold, therefore the inviter will not wait till they
that labor and are heavy laden come to him, but calls them lovingly;
for all his willingness to help might, perhaps, be of no avail
if he did not say these words and thereby take the first step;
for in the call of these words: "come hither unto me!" he comes
himself to them. Ah, human compassion--sometimes, perhaps, it is
indeed praiseworthy self-restraint, sometimes, perhaps, even true
compassion, which may cause you to refrain from questioning him
whom you suppose to be brooding over a hidden affliction; but
also, how often indeed is this compassion but worldly wisdom which
does not care to know too much! Ah, human'compassion--how often
was it not pure curiosity, and not compassion, which prompted
you to venture into the secret of one afflicted; and how burdensome
it was--almost like a punishment of your curiosity--when he
accepted your invitation and came to you! But he who sayeth
these redeeming words "Come hither!" he is not deceiving himself
in saying these words, nor will he deceive you when you come to
him in order to find rest by throwing your burden on him. He
follows the promptings of his heart in saying these words, and
his heart follows his words; if you then follow these words,
they will follow you back again to his heart. This follows as
a matter of course--ah, will you not follow the invitation?--"Come
hither!" For he supposes that they that labor and are heavy
laden are so worn out and overtaxed, and so near swooning that
they have forgotten, as though in a stupor, that there is such
a thing as consolation. Alas, or he knows for sure that there
is no consolation and no help unless it is sought from him; and
therefore must he call out to them "Come hither!"
"Come hither!" For is it not so that every society has some
symbol or token which is worn by those who belong to it? When
a young girl is adorned in a certain manner one knows that she
is going to the dance: Come hither all ye that labor and are
heavy laden--come hither! You need not carry an external and
visible badge; come but with your head anointed and your face
washed, if only you labor in your heart and are heavy laden.
"Come hither!" Ah, do not stand still and consider; nay, consider,
consider that with every moment you stand still after having
heard the invitation you will hear the call more faintly and thus
withdraw from it, even though you are standing still.--"Come
hither!" Ah, however weary and faint you be from work, or from
the long, long and yet hitherto fruitless search for help and
salvation, and even though you may feel as if you could not
take one more step, and not wait one more moment, without dropping
to the ground: ah, but this one step and here is rest!--"Come
hither!" But if, alas, there be one who is so wretched that
he cannot come?--Ah, a sigh is sufficient; your mere sighing
or him is also to come hither.