The Cross is such a simple thing, Yet of it men may talk and sing. It is a ladder to the skies, On which a mounting soul may rise. It is a signboard on the road, To cheer man with his weary load. It is a key that fits the door To joyousness forever more. It signals to the human race That God in mercy offers grace. To some it is a stumbling block That causes men to curse and mock; To others who their sins bemoan It can become a stepping stone. To voyagers its sturdy form Becomes an anchor in the storm. A hammer, it has won renown By battering old oppressions down. Gripped by still others as a sword, It has won battles for the Lord. Dragged as a ploughshare through the heart, New furrows cause the grain to start. It is a tree upon a hill, Whose fruit the hungry heart can fill. It is a window for the soul; 'Tis medicine to make one whole. The Cross is such a simple thing, And yet it touches everything. We cannot feel that such a sign Is other than a power divine. It is a beacon ever lit By One identified with it. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FLAT-HUNTER'S WAY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 6 by CONRAD AIKEN A PORTRAIT OF MY ROOF by JAMES GALVIN HOW MY HEART SINKS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 3. WASHINGTON, D.C. by CLARENCE MAJOR |