CROSSES by Mary Burns

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 21, 1902

CROSSES

By Mary Burns

I WILL not grieve that narrow walls Have shut away the world from me, Nor that from chains of bod’ly ills I cannot be set free; For this I know, whate’er befall Of sorrow or of pain, To him who trusts, works unto good And turns it into gain.

How do I know what dangers fell Lie hidden by the way? And God, who knows how weak I am, In pity bade me stay Awhile within these prison walls Where all is calm and still, And serve Him with my helpless hands, And wait His holy will.

I will not weep that earth’s sweet joys To my share did not fall, As He has taught me how to prize The gifts that once seemed small. And oh, the joys I hope to know When from earth’s clay relieved, Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, Nor heart of man conceived!

But if sometimes the night of pain Seems nigh too hard to bear, I think of that lone garden cold, And listen to that prayer That quivered through the lonely night When the well-beloved Son Cried: “Not my will, O Father, Not mine but thine be done.”

And when the way seems endless, And my cross a crushing load, I think of that sad journey Up Calvary’s weary road; I think how He who toiled that way In anguish and in pain, Fell thrice beneath the cross He bore; And then dare I complain?

No; whatsoe’er we suffer, Our Saviour suffered more; Whatever weary way we tread, He trod that way before. We need not know the reason why, Nor strive to understand, But as the night grows darker, Cling closer to His hand.

“Take up thy cross,” these are His words. “And follow after me;” And every mortal has his cross Whatever it may be. So cheerfully I’ll take up mine, Nor murmur nor complain; There are heavier loads than sickness, And sharper hurts than pain.

— Mary Burns; written while in prison.