Bear my cross and feel how I carry,
When the shoulder is rubbed to the corn,
Not because you are bad or good,
But because it's God's Will.
Bear it and not bend from suffering,
Accept, as there are strikes from sins.
And clenching his teeth to hold back the scuffs,
From the shackles of fate.
And leaving a mark of an unreasonable burden,
Prototted mistakes, path,
Your cross of your life will become a measure,
Your cross. Not the sinners the walking crowd.
And every time, having repented once,
You will feel, as the shoulder does not hurt.
But you will feel the spiritual desire for thirst,
And in the heart will become a thought hotly.
But when humility comes to you,
And the weight of the cross will add strength,
And it will become easier. There will be no doubt,
That the Angel was with you at that moment.
Carry your cross. How can it be otherwise.
Bending over, straightening along the way.
After all, he is each his own life,
And only you can carry your own ...
"REFLECTIONS" Grandpa Go