• Author: Unknown
• Editor: B-7413
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume 5
• Page Number:
• Date: 11 22 1916
• Tags:
• poetry

THE STREAM THAT IS NEVER CROSSED

There’s many a sorrow and pain, I know, As we tread the path of life; There’s many a grief and lasting woe: And the way is toil and strife. But the hardest load we have to bear Is the labor and strength that’s lost In building the bridge with toilsome care O’er the stream that is never crossed.

We have fretting and worry from morn till night, And anguish weighs on the heart; The thorny way seems hard to right, And life is a bitter part. But there is a burden greater yet, Much peace of soul it has cost, It is building a bridge with toil and sweat O’er the stream that is never crossed.

There’s looking for crossings all the day, And searching along the shore For a bridge or ford along the way We shall never travel o’er. There’s sighing for useless toys in vain, And dreaming of chances lost; But ’tis hardest to brldge with might and ‘ main The stream that is never crossed.

Then gather the roses along the way, And treasure the fragrance rare; Rejoice in the bright and joyous day, Refusing to borrow care. For sorrow and pain will surely come, And your soul be tried and tossed; But don’t be bridging to reach your home O’er the stream that is never crossed.

—Author Unknown.