SIMON the Cyrenean bore
The Cross of Christ up Calvary Hill.
Blessed be Simon's lot before
Honour and ease and world's good-will
You,--you would choose his lot above
All gifts and glories, yea, all love!
Now when for your two glorious men
Your heart is broken, and your joy
On earth shall not be built again,--
Oh, what a lover, what a boy !--
Dear heart, look up! Who helps you on
The way that you must walk alone ?
For when the Cross that you must bear
Galls your poor shoulders till they bleed,
And when the thorns are on your hair,
And Love-lies-bleeding: then indeed
One will come stepping light and take
The tears the burden, the heart-break.
Happy is she who to Thine ears
Pours all her lamentations! Yea,
When Thou dost wipe away her tears
And healing words of comfort say.
Thou makest Thy Cross both sweet and light
For souls like hers that walk in white.
