The Way Of The Cross

Onward! upward! neath curse and blow,
Neath crushing cross in the darkling day,
With reeling sense, bruised knees that know
The rocks and flints of Golgotha's way.
Bloody Thy steps? They must be trod,
Sweat of Thy brow? Thirst quenched with gall?
Thou, being man who wouldst shine as God,
Must on tho stumbling, rise tho fall.
Wouldst Thou rebuild the Temple high?
Up to Thy Calvary must Thou tread,
Wouldst Thou give life unto men who die?
Wear Thou the thorns upon Thy head.
They'll nail Thee high; O tott ring Christ,
They'll count Thy torments, pain by pain.
To love, to pity have not sufficed:
By those Thou savest Thou shalt be slain.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Who'd tread the god-won heights must fare
In the piteous steps of the Crucified:
The Cross is his to lift and bear;
The naked shame, the spear-torn side.
And shall I stop to count the price?
Down-borne I'll dare it. Onward till
I drag the cross of my sacrifice
To the top of the cruel hill.