Nothing in my hand I bring

Hello, all,

I hope your Tuesday is going smoothly so far.

Those of you who are older, especially who are from the South no doubt recognize the following lines: Nothing in my hand I bring, Simply to the cross I cling as the beginning of the third verse in the hymn Rock of Ages. At the house where we lived before we had a cross wall and more on the desk in the living room. Our new place didn't allow the exact arrangement, but a new approach finally came to me  lying awake courtesy of the time change Sunday. Here is part of the before:

Now the wide hallway between the front and back of the house is the venue.

This display is on top of the little chest of drawers my grandfather made by hand sometime in the 1920s.

This is the wall opposite the chest display.

The cutouts in the peg rack seemed to make natural frames.

Some of the crosses were gifts, but most were found in thrift shops.

One of my cork clipboards holds a selection of holy cards and pictures. It is hanging by my desk but was moved to take the picture to limit the exposure of mess to you, the unsuspecting and innocent public. 

 

There are a couple more large crosses I'll ask Mr. B. to hang higher where he can reach and I can't, but so far this works pretty well. What do you think?

Take it easy,

Michele