Contents of web site copyright 2014 Philip Rosenbaum

Unaccustomed to her burden, she knows not

That never beast bore such a Man as this,

Who meekly rides to His appointed lot,

A crown of thorns and a betrayer’s kiss.

And never man will carry such a weight

As He bears now in this, His day of power,

Ascending toward a strait and narrow gate,

His agonizing last and finest hour.

She bravely struggles on, despite her fear

Of cheering men, whom He as gravely views

As an admiral watching distant storms draw near

To lash bright waves to dark and deadly hues;

He knows the death decreed in ancient psalms,

The Tree that looms beyond these scattered palms.

The Burden
(Mark 11:1-11)