On the Road to Skull Hill

In Nazareth, I think, his home;

His name? I never knew.

He was an enemy of Rome;

Besides, he was a Jew.

The soldiers, when they saw him fall,

Beckoned me, but I ran;

Then, seeing I was out of call,

Took a Cyrenian.

Skull Hill looks hot . . . this road's a glare. . .

How very long the way!

The cross I would not help him bear

I bear alone today.