“The road is too rough,” I said;
“It is uphill all the way;
No flowers, but thorns instead;
And the skies overhead are gray.”
But One took my hand at the entrance dim,
And sweet is the road that I walk with Him.
“The cross is too 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.
~ from Streams in the Desert, by L. B. Cowman, May 8th entry
Photo Credit: Aleksandra Boguslawska