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Entwined with crosses?
(Thomas
Reade, "Christian Meditations")
Our most endeared enjoyments are transitory,
and mixed up with many cares. If we cultivate
the rose and admire its blushing leaves and
sweet perfume, the prickly thorn protects it.
If we would possess the honeyed hive, it is
guarded by a thousand stings.
Truly our comforts are entwined with crosses.
This world is not our rest.
"How vain are all things here below,
How false, and yet how fair.
Each pleasure has its poison too,
And every sweet a snare."
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