WITH each new day new cares will wait for thee, <br /> Trials and heart-aches; yet do thou not fear, <br /> But take them lovingly, and, weaving them <br />Into a crown of thorns, wear and let be <br /> For ever on thy head, a diadem, <br />5 <br /> More royal than gold, the dearest token here <br />Of that sad voice that whispers, "Follow Me."<br /><br />Frederick George Scott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-crown-of-thorns-3/
