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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