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.