''The road is too rough,'' I said; ''It is uphill all the way;
No flowers,but thorns instead; and the skies overhead are grey.''
But one took my hand at the entrance dim,
And sweet is the road that I walk with Him.
''The cross is to great'' I cried- More than the back can bear,
So rough and heavy and wide, And nobody near to care.''
And One stooped softly and touched my hand;
''I know. I care. And I understand''
Then why do we fret and cry; Cross-bearers all we go;
But the road ends by and by in the dearest place we know,
And every step in the journey we may take in the Lord's
own company.
i
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