Uploaded March 2021 | Updated September 2026, 1 week ago
Sandburg writes: "For more than a century ago we have this little piece of songcraft. It is a brief outcry given slight melody rather than a song. We are reminded of the more gentle reproach in the title of John Gunther’s book, “Death, Be Not Proud.”
"We hain't all got the same cross—oh, no! Thar's no two jes like no more than our eyes or noses The same pattern wouldn't fit us all, but thar's nary real child of God but has his cross made a purpose fer him and no other. And let him love it as God's kiss, not endurin’ it a-whinin’, and grudgin’ an’ draggin’ it ‘long in the dust. Let him bear it proudly as a soldier carries his gun, and tenderly, as the lover holds the rosebud given bay his sweetheart.
"The Lord will say, 'Whar's your cross stranger?' And when you show him the battered old thing he'll answer, 'All right,' and turn to an angel and say, “Angel, give this brother or sister a crown.” And, brethren, the heavier, the crookeder, the uglier the cross, just so much brighter’ll be the crown. Perhaps ’twas a thorny cross, tearin’ your flesh, and spotted with blood. Well, every blood drop will turn to a costly jewel in your splendid crown, and will shine like the sun when you dance in silver slippers above. So you see you must endure it to the end. You can’t get shed of it for a steep hill or a deep river. You’d a heap better never touched it if you don endure clear to the end." (from "REMEMBRANCE ROCK," Carl Sandburg (p. 869)
Sandburg writes: "For more than a century ago we have this little piece of songcraft. It is a brief outcry given slight melody rather than a song. We are reminded of the more gentle reproach in the title of John Gunther’s book, “Death, Be Not Proud.”
"We hain't all got the same cross—oh, no! Thar's no two jes like no more than our eyes or noses The same pattern wouldn't fit us all, but thar's nary real child of God but has his cross made a purpose fer him and no other. And let him love it as God's kiss, not endurin’ it a-whinin’, and grudgin’ an’ draggin’ it ‘long in the dust. Let him bear it proudly as a soldier carries his gun, and tenderly, as the lover holds the rosebud given bay his sweetheart.
"The Lord will say, 'Whar's your cross stranger?' And when you show him the battered old thing he'll answer, 'All right,' and turn to an angel and say, “Angel, give this brother or sister a crown.” And, brethren, the heavier, the crookeder, the uglier the cross, just so much brighter’ll be the crown. Perhaps ’twas a thorny cross, tearin’ your flesh, and spotted with blood. Well, every blood drop will turn to a costly jewel in your splendid crown, and will shine like the sun when you dance in silver slippers above. So you see you must endure it to the end. You can’t get shed of it for a steep hill or a deep river. You’d a heap better never touched it if you don endure clear to the end." (from "REMEMBRANCE ROCK," Carl Sandburg (p. 869)
