O Father, listen—something is amiss.
Your Son assured me at the start
"My yoke is easy, and my burden is light."
And so I followed him.
Why have You brought me to this
massive timber cross?
It lies here solid,
hard across my path.
Up to now the way has seemed so clear.
Even the steep paths and winding valleys
have been prepared, well marked.
But Father, can't You see?
Beyond this barrier
(I mean cross)
even if I could carry it
(but I can't)
the way is darkening and strewn with shale.
Perhaps this time I'll try a different way.
Father?
O Father, did You turn way Your face?
You didn't? Then, please, I'm ready for Truth's way.
Yes, now I'll stoop
and bend
and bow beneath this unimaginably heavy load.
Why, I can carry it! Strange burden,
the more I bend to balance its full heft
the easier it is to stand upright—
to walk manlike—
in Your clear day.
Life's yoke fits gently on my yielding neck.
Love's burden I bent down for
carries me,
as still I follow him.
