Ujamaa Christian Poetry

My Cross

I had a cross to carry
That daily grew in size.
I knew the hill was long;
The sweat dropped in my eyes.

"Oh, Master! Are all so heavy,
Those crosses that others bear?
I struggle so to keep the road,
I'll never make it there!"

He took me to a valley
Where crosses stood in rows
He told me, there, to make my choice
And choose a lighter load.

We passed between the crosses.
I lifted every one.
The smallest was so heavy,
I came back for my own!

Oh, God, forgive me when I whine,
The wounded Savior is mine,
And, though the upward road doth wind,
Remember me; His hand in mine!

His hand, His hand ... in mine!

Written by Joan Clifton Costner


Ujamaa Christian Poetry