“The road is too rough,” I said, “Dear Lord,
There are stones that hurt me so.”
And He said: “Dear child, I understand,
I walked it long ago.”
“But there’s a cool, green path,” I said.
“Let me walk there for a time.”
“No child,” He gently answered me,
“The green road does not climb.”
“My burden,” I said, “is far too great;
How can I bear it so?”
“My child,” said He. “I remember its weight ---
I carried My cross, you know.”
“But,” I said, “I wish there were friends with me
Who would make my way their own.”
“Ah! Yes,” He said. “ Gethsemane
Was hard to face alone.”
And so I climbed the stony path,
Content at last to know
That where My Master had not gone,
I would not need to go.
And strangely then I found new friends;
The burden grew less sore
As I remembered, long ago
He went that way before.
