A cross I have borne and carried;
It has now traveled with me
With tears like Peter's.
He had his own cross to carry
In this ancient city,
But mine has broken,
Shards of porcelain now scattered.
I have traveled the streets;
I have walked the hills.
I have found the Savior's sorrow
That He felt as He carried His up His hill.
Those blessed shards of porcelain, red and white,
Form a heart in love on a frame of Divine Mercy.
At once pressed together,
They create a reminder of God's great love:
to lay one's life down for one's friends.
O fragile cross now laid to rest,
If I must let go, let me let go
Now at the tomb a lover, a new Peter, a saint blest.
