The road is 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 is 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 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.
- Leona B. Gates