Cross

Glad tidings and drinks galore,
Walking through the gardens of yore,
Won't you cast off your worry,
Stop and rest, don't be in a hurry.
If you should fall into rest,
Know you rest under his family crest,
The precious blood has brought you here,
He's made the path straight and clear,
He made it so that all can hear,
His cross is not one all choose to bear.