GLORY OF THE CROSS
As we journey hard each day,
With our pack of burdens to bear;
We search and pray to find our way,
to salvation from death's evil snare.
For years we travel rough terrain,
With many storms to endure;
To no gain we fight with pain,
Searching for our poor souls' one cure.
I reflect the thoughts of the mind,
Illuminating one's heart's desire,
I reflect things good and kind,
or things that burn like fire.
I can be used to help and encourage,
Or to tear down and bring disaster,
I leave wounds that none can bandage,
Or leave hope that will tarry ever after.