My Cross

Please help me carry my cross,
Don't kick me when I'm down.
For even our Lord and Savior,
Three times fell down.
My cross is not as big as his was,
But it's my own true thoughts.
That the battles of my mind,
Some of them I won, and some I lost.
God's door is always open,
He's always there for me.
Like a firm foundation,
A mighty oak tree.
So whenever I see that trouble is near,
I look up to him and cry.
Lord take me out of this trouble I'm in,
And please don't let me die.
For his yoke is easy and burdens are light,
But somehow I fall in,
To the snares of that wicked one-
Who delights in our sin.
But Grace has made me able,
To get back on my feet again,
For when I wrestle with myself,
Each day I begin with fresh Grace again.