The Crown Of Thorns
F
Frederick George Scott
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WITH each new day new cares will wait for thee,
Trials and heart-aches; yet do thou not fear,
But take them lovingly, and, weaving them
Into a crown of thorns, wear and let be
For ever on thy head, a diadem,
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More royal than gold, the dearest token here
Of that sad voice that whispers, "Follow Me."
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