The Priest’s Lament

Lord, hast thou set me here
Thy priest to be,
The burden of Thy yoke to bear,
To feel thy cords about me set,
Wince at the lash, but never yet
Thy Face to see?
Lord, see what wounds on me
Thy burden makes
Dost Thou despise my misery?
Ah, Master! wilt Thou let me strain,
And fall and rise and fall again,
Till my heart breaks?
Lord, I am near to die,
So steep the hill,
So slow the wheels, so feeble I,
The halting place so far above.
Art Thou indeed a God of Love,
And tender still?
“Son, turn a moment, see
Is that blood thine?
Who is it shares thy yoke with thee,
Treads foot by foot with thee the road?
Whose shoulder bears the heavier load, —
Is it not Mine?”