"The road is too rough, dear Lord," I cried, "There are stones that hurt me so." "My child," He said, "I understand, I walked it long ago." "But there's a cool green path ahead, Let me walk there for a time." "No child," He gently answered me, "The green road does not climb." "My burden," I cried, "is far too great. How can I bear this load?" "Dear One," said He, "I remember its weight-I carried my cross, you know." "But," I said, "I wish there were friends with me, that would make their way my own." "Oh yes," He said, "Gethsemane was hard to bear alone." And so I climbed the stony path, Content at least to know That where the Master had not gone, I would not have to go. And strangely then I found new friends, My burdens grew less sore, As I remembered long ago He walked that way before.