THE HEAVIEST CROSS OF ALL. I've borne full many a sorrow. I've suffered suf-fered many a loss. But now. with a strange new anguish I carry the last dread cross! ' i For of this he sure, my dearest, whatever thy life befall. The cross that our hands fashion is the heaviest cross of all. Heavy and hard I made it In the davs of my f.iir strong ycat .J Veiling mine .-yes from the- blessed light and closing my heart to truth. Pity me. Lord, whose mercy paspeth my wildest thought. For I never dreamed of the bitter end of the work my hands had wrought! In the sweet morn's flush and fragrance I wandered o'er dewy meadows, And I hid from the fervid noontide glow-in glow-in the cool, green woodland shadows. And I never recked as I sang aloud in my weird and willful glee Of the mighty woe that was drawing near to darken the worldi for me. But it came at last, my dearest. What needi to tell thee now? Mayst never know of the wild, wild woe that my 'heart is bearing now! Over my summer's glory crept a damp and chilling shade, And I staggered under the heavy cross that my sinful hands had made. I go where the shadows deepen, and the end seems far off yet: God keep thee safa from the sharing of this woeful late reirret! For of this be sure, my dearest, whatever what-ever thy life befall. The crosses we make for ourselves alas, are tho heaviest ones of all. KATHKRINE CONWAY.