I slipped His fingers, I escaped His feet,
I ran and hid, for Him I feared to meet.
One day I passed Him, fettered on a Tree.
He turned His head, looked, and beckoned me.

Neither by speed, nor strength could He prevail.
Each hand and foot was pinioned by a nail,
He could not run and clasp me if He tried,
But with His eye, He bade me reach His side.

For pity's sake thought I, I'll set you free.
"Nay -- hold this cross," He said, "and follow Me.
This yoke is easy, this burden light,
Not hard or grievous if you wear it tight."

So I did follow Him Who could not move,
An uncaught captive in the hands of Love.

POEM: Attributed to Venerable Fulton John Sheen, 1895-1979.
IMAGE: Crucifixion, 1960s undated, Boris Vallejo, 1941-.