I have a cross in my backpack - I put it there long ago
Some days its glorious and gold; I feel I should wear it close to my chest and indeed I would need nothing more as I travel the world.
Some days its dark and heavy; a burden I wish to leave behind thinking without it I would travel unhindered, truly 'free'.
But I have journeyed long enough to know that
I don't really carry a cross
It's the cross that carries me
It steadies my feet, comforts my soul,
Has bought me a home and will lead me there
At the end of this road
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