The Heaviest Cross
It is not His cross that is heavy;
It is those that our hands have made
That hinder us on our journey,
On our aching shoulders laid;
There is strength for the load He gives us,
And balm for the thorn He sends,
But none for the needless burdens
And none for our selfish ends.
We bear a burden of sorrow;
We carry a weight of gold;
We cling to some treasured idol,
And will not loose our hold:
We bend beneath trouble and worries;
We drag a load of wrong;
And we cry that the cross is heavy,
And sigh that the way is long.
Let us drop the sin that besets us;
Let us cast aside our fears;
Let us give our grief to Jesus;
And break our pitcher of tears;
Let us learn of the meek and lowly
Who giveth the weary rest;
Let us take His yoke upon us,
And walk with Him abreast;
For His yoke is easy to carry,
And His burden is light in weight;
He will do His share of the labor,
For He is a true yoke-mate.
Are we weary and heavy-laden?
Are we anxious and full of care?
That is not the cross of His giving,
But the one that we make and bear.
Annie Johnson Flint
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