Don’t be cross if the dishes break: Don’t be cross if the baby wake: There is a pen and a record near; O speak kind,—there’s an angel here! Don’t be harsh if your will be crossed; Life’s great sea may be tempest-tossed; Call on Christ, for the billows kneel, If His hand shall but touch the wheel. Don’t be cross if the tide rolls high; God still rules in the stormy sky. Still be kind though the way is dark; God saves some in a helpless Ark. Don’t be cross, for a mighty host Now looks on; not a word is lost. What is earth, and its riches what? Soon all past, and its gold forgot. Don’t be cross, for the iron pen Still writes on; for the great Amen Summons each to the shining throne, There to meet every word his own. Keep us, Lord, from the hasty word That wounds all hearts like the cruel sword! And with the blood that for us was shed, Blot cross words from the records read. endpaper divider |