A Little Parable

I Made the cross myself whose weight   Was later laid on me. This thought is torture as I toil   Up life’s steep Calvary. To think mine own hands drove the nails!   I sang a merry song, And chose the heaviest wood I had   To build it firm and strong. If I had guessed—if I had dreamed   Its weight was meant for me, I should have made a lighter cross   To bear up Calvary!