I SLIPPED HIS FINGERS | Poem for Lent by Fulton Sheen

“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, and 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 or 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 did I follow Him Who could not move, An uncaught captive in the hands of Love.”

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