I saw an old man walking down a long and windy road.
And on his back, he carried a large and heavy load.
As he went, he picked up worries that he'd add on his back.
And though he stooped to breaking, still he added to his pack.
I heard him moan and grumble of the weight that he must bear,
But knew he was unwilling, of one small thing to share.
"It's mine," I heard him rumble, with a voice akin to fear.
"I'll keep it right here with me, to my grave I'll keep it near."
I wondered at his foolishness. How could he be so blind,
To his self-inflicted pain, or the folly of his mind?
I shook my head at that old man and where his future lay.
Then took ahold on my own load and continued on my way.
"Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and YOU WILL FIND REST FOR YOUR SOULS." (NASB)